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GR  305.5  . T27  C64  1899 
Rauschenbusch-Clough , Emma . 
While  sewing  sandals 


J 


WHILE  SEWING 
SANDALS 


- 


‘ --  . 


MADIGAS  SEWING  SANDALS. 


[Frontispiece. 


While  Sewing  Sandals 

Tales  of  a Telugu 
Pariah  Tribe  . . . 


BY 

Emma  Rauschenbusch-Clough,  Ph.D. 

Member  of  the  Royal  Asiatic  Society  of 
Great  Britain  and  Ireland 


New  York  Chicago  Toronto 

Fleming  H.  Revell  Company 

Publishers  of  Evangelical  Literature 


To 


MY  FATHER 

Professor  A.  Rauschenbusch  D.D 

WHO  HAS  PASSED  ON  TO  ME  THE  HERITAGE  OF 
ANCESTORS  WHO  SOUGHT  AND  SUFFERED 
FOR  TRUTH  THIS  STORY  OF  A TELUGU 
PARIAH  TRIBE  IN  SEARCH 
FOR  TRUTH  IS  AFFECTION- 


ATELY  INSCRIBED 


Preface 


Many  a day  I passed  with  a group  of  Madigas 
before  me,  listening  to  their  legends,  hearing 
about  their  cults.  I received  glimpses  of  life  in 
the  Indian  village  community,  and  I felt  the 
heart-beat  of  the  religious  life  of  the  common 
people  of  India. 

The  Madigas  are  among  the  humblest  and 
most  despised  of  the  Pariahs  of  Southern  India. 
They  are  the  leather  workers  in  the  Telugu 
country.  For  centuries  they  have  tanned  hides, 
sewed  sandals,  prepared  leather  buckets  for  the 
wells  of  the  Sudras,  and  made  trappings  for 
their  bullocks.  And  all  their  search  for  truth  was 
carried  on  while  sewing  sandals  with  their  hands. 

I have  described  what  I heard  from  them. 
In  some  respects  I found  myself  on  untrodden 
ground.  With  regard  to  the  Matangi  cult,  the 
Chermanishta  sect,  the  cult  called  Perantalu,  and 
the  several  Reform  sects  which  came  to  my 
notice,  I cannot  quote  the  researches  of  others 
in  corroboration  of  that  which  I found  among 
the  people. 

vii 


viii 


PREFACE 


The  story  of  the  mass  - movement  toward 
Christianity  has,  I trust,  retained  in  its  English 
rendering  some  of  the  quaintness,  the  distinct 
originality,  that  was  so  fascinating  to  me,  when 
I heard  it  from  my  Madiga  friends.  Many  of 
them  I had  known  for  seventeen  years.  Memory 
carried  me  sufficiently  far  back  to  make  their 
reminiscences  seem  very  real  and  lifelike. 

It  was  my  intention  not  to  draw  on  the  fund 
of  information  gathered  in  hearing  my  husband, 
Rev.  J.  E.  Clough,  D.D.,  tell  of  the  early  days  at 
Ongole.  I wanted  to  put  myself  into  the  place 
of  the  Madigas,  and  to  see  the  situation  with 
their  eyes.  My  husband’s  side  of  the  story, 
therefore,  still  remains  to  be  told. 

I am  grateful  to  him  and  to  several  friends  in 
India,  who  furnished  me  with  opportunity  to 
meet  Madigas  living  at  a distance,  whose  me- 
mories were  stored  with  tales  of  the  Telugu 
Pariah  tribe,  to  which  they  belonged.  A Eurasian 
gentleman  in  Ongole  helped  me  in  gathering 
legends  direct  from  the  people.  In  my  search  in 
libraries  in  India  and  in  London  I have  been 
most  courteously  aided,  and  from  several  members 
of  the  Royal  Asiatic  Society  I have  received 
valuable  suggestions.  All  this  I would  gratefully 
acknowledge.  E.  R.  C. 

London,  1899. 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

A HISTORY  NOT  WRITTEN  IN  BOOKS 


1 An  Ancient  Tribe  . 

2 Traditions  of  a Tribal  Head 

3 The  King  of  the  Matangas  . 

4 Scattered  and  in  Servitude  . 

5 Transformed  into  a Buffalo 


13 

21 

3i 

45 


ANCIENT  MOTHER-WORSHIP 

1 The  Curse  of  Arundhati  • • • • 53 

2 The  Initiation  of  a Matangi  ...  62 

3 The  Matangi  in  Legends  and  Stories  . . 77 

4 The  Fiend  Mahalakshmi  ....  90 

5 Secret  Meetings  and  Midnight  Orgies  . 103 

CHRISTIANITY  AND  THE  GURUS 

1 A Search  for  Truth 113 

2 Six  Gurus  in  Succession  . . . .130 

3 The  Silence  of  Ramaswami  . . . 141 

ix 


X 


CONTENTS 


FROM  NASRIAH  TO  CHRIST 

PAGE 

i Nasriah  the  Reformer  . 

. . 

• 157 

2 Longing  to  See  God 

. 

. 167 

3 His  Mother’s  Curse 

• 

. 183 

BATTLE-GROUND  FOR  TWO  RELIGIONS 

i Through  much  Tribulation  . 

. 

. 201 

2 Not  Peace,  but  a Sword 

• 

. 218 

3 The  Persecutor  and  His  End 

• 

. 247 

THE  POWER  OF  CHRISTIANITY 

i A Great  Calamity  . 

. 

. 271 

2 A Modern  Pentecost 

. 285 

3 Conclusion  .... 

■ 

• 302 

REFERENCES  

• 3ii 

INDEX  

• 3i5 

LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

Madigas  Sewing  Sandals  ....  Frontispiece 


Buffaloes  Bathing  in  a Tank 49 

The  Matangi,  her  Attendant,  and  the  Bainundu  . 70 

Mahalakshmi  and  iier  Attendants  ....  91 

A Hindu  Guru 144 

Idol  Worship 164 

Madigas  with  their  Drums 215 

Poleramah  and  her  Brother 250 

Famine-stricken  Christians 274 


A HISTORY  NOT  WRITTEN 
IN  BOOKS 

An  Ancient  Tribe 
Traditions  of  a Tribal  Head 
The  King  of  the  Matangas 
Scattered  and  in  Servitude 
Transformed  into  a Buffalo 


w.s.S. 


1 


AN  ANCIENT  TRIBE 


When  it  came  to  pass,  twenty  years  ago,  in  the 
town  of  Ongole,  in  Southern  India,  that  ten  thou- 
sand Madigas  turned  to  Christianity  in  one  year, 
there  was  questioning  as  to  the  causes  of  this 
movement.  Devout  minds  saw  in  the  baptism  of 
two  thousand  two  hundred  and  twenty-two  in  one 
day  a modern  Pentecost,  and  were  filled  with 
wonder  and  gratitude. 

Others  enquired  with  interest  concerning  ac- 
companying circumstances  and  conditions,  and 
when  they  heard  of  the  famine  which  immediately 
preceded  this  movement  toward  Christianity,  they 
were  satisfied  that  they  had  here  the  moving 
cause.  The  desire  to  enter  upon  the  experience 
of  the  Christian  was  considered  to  stand  in 
direct  proportion  to  the  hunger  that  was  gnawing. 
But  the  mass  movement  toward  Christianity  con- 
tinued long  after  the  famine  was  over.  Sixty 


4 


A HISTORY  NOT  IN  BOOKS 


thousand  Madigas  are  to-day  counted  as  Christians. 
The  Madiga  community  of  a part  of  the  Telugu 
country  has  become  Christianized. 

During  the  months  which  I spent  in  listening  to 
tales  of  this  Telugu  Pariah  tribe,  both  from  Chris- 
tians and  non-Christians,  I ever  kept  in  mind  the 
questions  that  might  be  asked  by  those  who  looked 
upon  this  Pentecostal  event  in  modern  missions 
from  different  standpoints.  I looked  for  traces  of 
a direct  manifestation  of  God’s  Spirit  upon  the 
minds  of  men,  and  I found  them.  At  the  same 
time  I was  on  the  alert  to  detect  the  special 
features  of  environment  that  made  a mass  move- 
ment toward  Christianity  possible.  I found  these 
also. 

The  methods  of  historical  criticism  are  singular- 
ly inadequate  when  they  approach  the  phenomenon 
of  God’s  Spirit  working  in  the  hearts  and  minds 
of  a multitude  of  men.  Reason,  with  its  limited 
range  of  comprehension,  cannot  analyze,  differen- 
tiate and  explain  that  which  belongs  to  the 
realm  of  faith.  God’s  power  is  there.  He  whose 
faith  delights  in  the  sublime  mysteries  of  God 
is  satisfied  to  know  that  God’s  presence  is 


AN  ANCIENT  TRIBE 


5 


manifest.  But  he  also  who  sets  aside  the  super- 
natural, because  beyond  the  reach  of  analysis  and 
criticism,  and  looks  upon  this  movement  among 
the  Madigas  from  the  sociological  standpoint,  will 
find  that  after  he  has  reckoned  with  each  factor 
of  environment,  an  unknown  factor  still  remains, 
and  this  factor  is  the  divine  power  inherent  in 
the  Gospel  of  Jesus  Christ. 

Much  seemed  to  me  explained  when  I found 
that  the  nucleus  of  the  Ongole  Mission  was 
formed  by  men  who,  long  years  before  the  mission- 
ary came  to  Ongole,  had  become  dissatisfied  with 
the  cults  of  the  Madiga  village,  and  had  carried 
on  a search  for  truth  by  listening  to  the  teaching 
of  Hindu  Gurus.  They  took  the  first  step  out  of 
polytheism  into  theism  by  learning  from  their  Yogi 
teachers  that  there  is  one  God  and  that  He  is 
spirit.  This  represented  spiritual  gain  of  a high 
order.  But  what  was  more  valuable  than  this, 
perhaps,  was  the  receptive  attitude,  the  thirst 
which  could  not  be  quenched.  When  the  Gospel 
of  Jesus  Christ  came  to  these  men,  there  was  a 
gratitude  in  their  hearts  that  formed  a tremendous 
impetus  toward  Christian  activity. 


6 


A HISTORY  NOT  IN  BOOKS 


Another  condition  which  I found  had  largely 
affected  the  movement  toward  Christianity  among 
the  Madigas  was  their  strong  family  cohesion. 
During  the  course  of  many  centuries,  through 
famines,  pestilence  and  warfare  that  swept  over 
the  land,  the  Madigas  have  retained  their  distinct- 
ness as  a tribe.  We  see  them  to-day,  despised  as 
Pariahs,  yet  forming  a unit  among  the  many  other 
units  which  comprise  the  social  life  of  India. 
They  preserve  their  traditions ; they  have  a cult 
which  is  distinctively  a Madiga  cult ; they  even 
have  their  own  village  jurisdiction  on  a tribal  basis. 

In  going  back  to  the  earliest  days  of  the  Ongole 
Mission,  I found  several  centres  from  which  the 
influence  radiated,  and  they  were  family  centres. 
The  man  who  first  brought  the  tale  of  the  strange 
new  religion  had  to  be  identified  as  belonging  to 
such  and  such  Madiga  family  ; he  was  invited  to 
the  evening  meal,  and  the  family  listened  to  him  as 
a family  in  the  hours  of  the  night.  There  was 
family  deliberation  as  to  whether  this  religion  was 
true  and  right,  and  the  family  stood  together  to 
meet  the  petty  persecutions  that  followed  so  surely 
in  many  a case. 


AN  ANCIENT  TRIBE 


7 


There  were  men  also  who  met  Jesus  Christ  in  the 
way,  alone,  and  went  home  to  face  the  hard  ordeal 
that  falls  to  him  who  is  cast  off  by  his  family  as  a 
heretic,  as  a promulgator  of  a strange  new  religion. 
These  men  were  determined  that  their  families 
must  come  with  them.  They  went  to  distant 
relations  ; they  journeyed  to  reason  with  the  con- 
nections of  the  wife.  The  sense  of  family  cohesion 
was  so  strong  upon  them,  the  thought  that  they 
might  lead  a separate  life  henceforth  seemed  un- 
natural and  scarcely  to  be  entertained. 

Family  cohesion  was  the  channel  through  which 
spiritual  truth  spread  rapidly.  It  was  also  the 
channel  that  carried  precepts  directed  toward  up- 
lifting of  a social  nature.  When  the  Sudras  saw 
how  Christianity  proved  in  the  case  of  the  Madigas 
a power  to  make  life  on  earth  more  wholesome 
and  clean,  they  considered  it  social  redemption  of 
a tribal  nature.  They  said  : “ This  religion  has 
come  to  them.  It  would  be  well  for  us  also  if  a 
religion  came  to  us  that  would  educate  our  children 
and  make  us  respected.”  Christianity  found  in 
tribal  characteristics  a powerful  ally. 

The  Madigas  are  without  doubt  a very  ancient 


8 


A HISTORY  NOT  IN  BOOKS 


tribe.  It  is  possible  that  they  are  among  the 
aboriginal  tribes  of  Southern  India  who  are  de- 
scendants of  the  Kolarian  race,  a very  rude  and 
primitive  race,  which  may  have  occupied  India 
previous  to  the  advent  of  the  Dravidians.  It  is 
also  possible  that  there  were  several  migrations  of 
Dravidian  tribes.  Perhaps  the  Madigas  were 
among  the  earliest  of  the  Dravidian  invaders,  but 
yet  of  the  same  stock.  In  support  of  this  hy- 
pothesis I would  point  to  the  fact  that  the  legends 
and  cults  of  the  Madigas  bear  the  family  resem- 
blance of  Dravidian  tribes,  and  that  in  their 
hamlets  the  same  self-government  exists,  on  a 
small  scale,  which  marked  the  ancient  Dravidian 
village  community.  I have  not  found  proof  of 
equal  weight  to  support  the  theory  that  they  are 
of  pre-Dravidian  racial  affinity. 

If  scholars  were  agreed  concerning  the  racial 
origin  of  the  Dravidians,  we  might  proceed  to 
assign  to  the  Madigas  their  place  in  the  human 
family.  But  we  meet  with  conflicting  theories. 
Both  Blumenbach  and  Haeckel,  the  one  by  the 
characteristics  of  the  skull,  the  other  by  the  struc- 
ture of  the  hair,  find  that  the  Dravidians  are 


AN  ANCIENT  TRIBE 


9 


neither  Caucasian  nor  Mongolian,  but  have  their 
place  between  the  two  races.  According  to 
Haeckel’s  hypothesis,  the  Dravidians  advanced 
into  India  from  the  south,  from  that  continent 
Lemuria,  which  he  considers  man’s  primeval 
home,  now  sunk  below  the  surface  of  the  Indian 
Ocean.  Dr.  Logan  finds  an  Indo- African  element 
in  the  Dravidian  physiognomy,  and  supposes  that 
a negro  race  overspread  India  before  the  arrival 
of  the  Scythians.  Dr.  Caldwell  applies  the  phi- 
lological test.  He  claims  that  the  Dravidians 
came  from  the  north,  because  vestiges  of  Dra- 
vidian dialects  mark  the  pathway.  A Scythian 
invasion  preceded  the  Aryan  invasion.  The  Dra- 
vidian dialects  bear  distinct  affinity  to  the  Scythian 
group  of  languages.  He  argues,  therefore,  that 
the  Dravidians  are  of  Scythian  race.  The  racial 
origin  of  the  Dravidians  is  not  yet  ultimately  settled. 

Concerning  the  Indo- Aryans,  scholars  are  agreed 
that  they  are  of  Caucasian  race,  pure  and  simple. 
They  are  the  Sanscrit-speaking  branch  of  the 
Indo-Germanic  races,  and  entered  India  from  the 
north,  perhaps  about  the  year  3000  B.C.  Wars  and 
conquests  marked  their  course  in  Northern  India. 


10 


A HISTORY  NOT  IN  BOOKS 


The  ancient  Rishis  in  the  hymns  of  the  Rig  Veda 
praise  the  Vedic  god  of  battle : “ Thou,  O Indra, 
hast  with  thy  weapon  smitten  the  mouthless 
Dasyus ; in  the  battle  thou  hast  pierced  the  im- 
perfect-speaking people.” 

When,  at  a later  period,  their  southward  pro- 
gress began,  they  had  neither  weapons  in  their 
hands  nor  appeals  to  Indra  on  their  lips.  They 
employed  the  arts  of  peace.  Aryan  hermits 
settled  in  the  southern  forests,  and  became  the 
friends  and  instructors  of  the  Dravidians.  Pre- 
vious to  this  contact  between  Aryans  and  Dra- 
vidians we  have  no  means  of  knowing  anything 
about  the  ancient  Dravidians. 

They  were  evidently  not  to  be  despised  by  the 
proud  Aryans,  for  they  had  considerable  resources. 
Governed  by  kings,  they  lived  in  fortified  cities, 
fought  with  weapons,  and  possessed  much  wealth. 
Four  cognate  languages  were  spoken  by  the  Dra- 
vidians, the  Tamil,  Telugu,  Canarese  and  Malay- 
alim.  It  is  doubtful  whether  they  had  a literature 
anterior  to  Aryan  influences.  In  abstract  ideas 
they  were  deficient,  but  for  every  other  range  of 
ideas  their  languages  afforded  ample  means  of 


AN  ANCIENT  TRIBE 


ii 


expression.  They  were  a practical  people.  The 
Aryan  colonists  were  compelled  to  acquire  the 
Dravidian  dialects  and  to  content  themselves  by  in- 
troducing Sanscrit  terms  into  the  local  vernaculars. 

In  their  social  organization  the  two  races 
differed  widely.  Among  the  Aryans  of  the  north 
the  caste  system  was  already  developed  when  their 
colonists  began  to  migrate  to  the  south.  The 
only  distinction  known  to  the  Dravidians  was 
that  of  high  and  low,  patricians  and  plebeians,  as 
is  found  in  all  primitive  communities.  The  Aryans 
had  their  strong  Brahminical  hierarchy,  while  the 
priests  of  the  Dravidians  were  self-created,  re- 
spected according  to  their  skill  in  magic  and 
sorcery.  The  Aryans  burned  their  dead ; their 
widows  were  not  allowed  to  re-marry ; they  ab- 
horred the  eating  of  flesh  and  the  spilling  of  blood. 
The  Dravidians,  on  the  other  hand,  buried  their 
dead  ; their  widows  re-married  ; they  ate  flesh  of 
all  kinds,  and  no  ceremony  could  take  place  with- 
out the  excessive  use  of  strong  drink  and  the 
spilling  of  blood. 

When  the  two  races  first  came  in  contact  there 
seems  to  have  been  antagonism  in  religious  lines. 


12 


A HISTORY  NOT  IN  BOOKS 


The  Brahminical  settlers  complained  in  the  ex- 
aggerated language  of  the  East  concerning  “ the 
faithless  creatures  that  inject  frightful  sounds  into 
the  ears  of  the  faithful  and  austere  eremites.” 
Hiding  in  the  thickets  adjoining  the  hermitages, 
“ these  frightful  beings  delighted  in  terrifying  the 
devotees.”  At  the  time  of  sacrifice  they  came  and 
snatched  away  the  jars,  the  flowers  and  the  fuel, 
they  cast  away  the  sacrificial  ladles  and  vessels, 
and  polluted  with  blood  the  cooked  oblations  and 
offerings. 

The  mingling  of  tribes  and  races  and  the  fusion 
of  cults  and  religious  systems  which  constitute 
modern  Hinduism  was  then  in  its  infancy.  The 
Madigas  were  there  and  bore  their  part.  With 
their  Matangi  cult  they  reach  far  back  into  anti- 
quity. Leather-workers  by  occupation,  they  are 
arriong  the  lowest  of  the  Pariah  tribes.  Yet  the 
social  and  religious  customs  found  among  them 
to-day  have  their  root  in  the  India  of  thousands 
of  years  ago.  The  first  contact  between  Chris- 
tianity and  this  ancient  tribe  must,  therefore,  be 
of  a unique  character. 


TRADITIONS  OF  A TRIBAL  HEAD 


The  Madigas  proudly  point  to  Adijambuvu  as 
their  great  ancestor.  He  was  the  “ grandfather  of 
the  Madigas,”  who  was  created  “six  months  before 
the  world  began.”  This  places  Adijambuvu  as  to 
time,  for  in  India  “the  world  began”  when  the 
Aryans  made  their  conquests,  and  this  man,  who 
was  “ the  first  Madiga,”  was  one  of  those  who  were 
in  possession  of  the  soil  when  the  invaders  came. 

Now  Adijambuvu  was  very  great.  No  matter 
what  Rama  wanted  to  do  about  war,  he  first  went 
and  asked  him,  as  patriarchal  head,  for  his  advice, 
and  then  did  what  he  said.  Though  of  high 
estate  when  the  Aryans  first  came  in  contact  with 
the  sons  of  the  soil,  the  day  of  humiliation  came 
to  Adijambuvu.  He  fell  from  his  height. 

There  was  in  those  days  a cow,  called  Kama- 
dhenu,  for  she  was  the  “ cow  of  plenty.”  A boy, 
whose  name  was  Vellamanu,  tended  the  cow,  and 


13 


14 


A HISTORY  NOT  IN  BOOKS 


she  gave  much  milk.  Adisakti,  the  primeval 
energy  worshipped  by  the  aborigines,  permitted 
the  gods  to  drink  the  milk  of  Kamadhenu. 

The  boy,  Vellamanu,  desired  exceedingly  to 
taste  of  the  milk.  But  the  gods  said  : “You  shall 
not  by  any  means  partake  of  it.”  He  would  not 
rest  satisfied.  One  day  he  lay  down  as  if  sick. 
By  stealth  he  took  the  pot  from  which  the  gods 
had  drunk  the  milk,  poured  water  into  it  and 
drank  it.  He  said  to  himself : “ If  the  milk  tastes 
so  good,  how  must  the  meat  taste  ? ” Kama- 
dhenu became  aware  of  his  evil  intentions.  At 
the  very  thought  that  any  one  should  desire  to  eat 
her  flesh,  her  spirit  departed,  and  she  fell  dead. 

The  gods  heard  what  had  happened.  They 
came  to  the  spot  and  found  Kamadhenu  dead. 
What  should  be  done  ? They  went  to  Adijam- 
buvu  and  said  : “You  are  the  greatest  among  us. 
You  must  divide  her  into  four  parts.”  He  did  so. 
One  part  he  retained  for  himself,  one  part  was 
given  to  Brahma,  one  to  Vishnu,  and  one  to  Siva. 
They  took  their  parts  and  went  away. 

Ere  long  the  gods  came  back  and  said,  “We 
must  have  the  cow  again.”  They  brought  their 


TRADITIONS  OF  A TRIBAL  HEAD  15 


three  parts,  and  called  for  Adijambuvu’s  part. 
But  the  boy,  Vellamanu,  had  meantime  cut  off  a 
piece  and  was  boiling  it.  As  it  bubbled  in  the 
pot  a particle  of  the  meat  rose  with  the  bubbles 
and  fell  into  the  fire.  He  took  it  up,  blew  against 
it,  so  that  the  moisture  in  his  breath  touched  the 
meat,  and  put  it  back  into  the  pot. 

Adijambuvu  took  his  part  of  the  cow,  and  with 
the  other  three  parts  proceeded  to  create  a new 
cow.  But,  alas  ! the  flesh  that  had  been  boiled 
and  breathed  upon  could  not  be  replaced.  Kama- 
dhenu  was  not  as  before.  Loose  skin  was  hang- 
ing down  from  her  chin,  the  flesh  that  had  formerly 
filled  it  was  gone.  She  was  reduced  in  every  way. 
From  her  proud  stature  of  two  heads,  four  horns, 
eight  feet  and  two  tails  she  dwindled  down  to 
the  present  size  of  the  cow. 

The  gods  said,  “Adijambuvu  has  to  come 
down  from  his  height  and  be  beneath  us.”  Thus 
the  day  of  his  humiliation  began.  He  dug  him- 
self a well,  and  the  boy,  Vellamanu,  dug  another, 
for  caste  difference  rose  between  them. 

Such  is  the  legend  of  the  “ grandfather  of  the 
Madigas.”  But  who  was  the  boy,  Vellamanu, 


i6 


A HISTORY  NOT  IN  BOOKS 


whose  interference  had  so  great  an  effect  ? There 
is  among  the  Pariahs  a priestly  caste  called  the 
Valluvas,  who  preserve  to  this  day,  with  great 
faithfulness,  a species  of  learning  that  is  akin  to 
the  priestly  lore  of  Brahmin  sages.  Vestiges  of 
Sanscrit  learning  are  found  among  them,  which 
point  back  to  a time  when  the  Aryan  hermits 
were  on  friendly  terms  with  the  aboriginal  tribes, 
willing  to  teach  them.  It  seems  when  the  days 
of  separation  and  caste  feeling  came,  the  Valluvas 
formed  the  link  between  the  old  and  the  new. 

The  boy,  Vellamanu,  had  milk  to  offer  to  the 
gods.  Adisakti  regarded  the  gods  with  favour  and 
allowed  them  to  drink,  for  the  Aryans  partook  of 
the  cults  of  the  aborigines  ; they  imbibed  aboriginal 
ideas.  But  when  the  boy,  Vellamanu,  would  share 
the  drink  of  the  gods,  he  showed  himself  unworthy. 
The  lust  of  meat  filled  his  mind.  It  was  the  old 
bitter  contention  between  Aryan  and  Dravidian, 
because  the  latter  eat  flesh,  that  wrought  the 
change  in  the  early  friendly  relations.  The  cause 
of  the  change  was  social  incompatibility. 

I searched  in  books  for  a trace  of  Adijambuvu, 
and  found  several  references  where  he  is  taken 


TRADITIONS  OF  A TRIBAL  HEAD  17 


out  of  the  region  of  the  legendary,  and  trans- 
planted through  his  descendants  into  our  own 
times.  There  is  among  the  Madigas  of  the 
Canarese  country  a priestly  tribe,  called  Jambu, 
who  never  intermarry  with  the  laity,  and  live 
entirely  on  their  contributions.  A high  priest, 
whose  office  is  hereditary,  takes  frequent  rounds 
through  the  country,  collecting  money  and  ad- 
monishing his  followers.  It  is  not  difficult  to 
frame  the  supposition  that  the  tribal  head  in  time 
became  the  priestly  head.  As  the  tribe  scattered, 
the  priestly  hierarchy  was  not  sufficiently  powerful 
to  make  itself  felt  among  the  portions  of  the  tribe 
that  had  migrated  to  some  distance.  Two  sub- 
divisions of  the  Madigas  mentioned  in  the  census, 
the  Jambava  and  Jambavanta,  may  be  direct 
descendants  of  Adijambuvu. 

The  legend  said  the  “ grandfather  of  the  Madi- 
gas” was  the  respected  adviser  of  Rama  in 
matters  of  war.  I turned  to  the  Ramayana , the 
great  Sanscrit  epic,  to  find  a trace  of  him  there. 
The  poet  speaks  of  “Jambavan,  chief  of  the 
bears,”  who  is  probably  Adijambuvu,  the  first 
Madiga.  Decked  out  in  poetical  garb,  to  har- 


w.s.s. 


2 


i8 


A HISTORY  NOT  IN  BOOKS 


monize  with  the  other  heroic  figures,  Jambavan  is 
honourably  mentioned,  and  his  opinions  are  re- 
corded at  length. 

The  poet  of  the  Ramayana  sought  a picturesque 
effect  by  naming  the  hosts,  who  helped  Rama 
in  war,  by  their  totems.  Possibly  the  hosts  of 
monkeys  and  bears  worshipped  these  animals. 
But  since  Dravidian  dynasties  had  animals  as 
their  devices,  the  Gheras  an  elephant,  the  Pallavas 
a tiger,  it  seems  probable  that  the  tribe  of  Jam- 
bavan had  the  bear  as  a device  and  was  named 
by  the  poet  accordingly.  The  forest  Dandaka 
extended  probably  from  Bundelkhand  south  to 
the  Krishna  River.  The  army  of  Rama  was  thus 
gathered  in  the  region  where  the  Madigas  to-day 
are  scattered. 

Rama,  the  hero  of  the  Ramayana , was  a prince  of 
the  house  of  Oudh.  He  was  sent  into  exile,  and 
after  dismissing  his  charioteer  on  the  confines  of 
civilization,  he  entered  the  great  forest  Dandaka. 
Sita,  the  faithful  wife  of  Rama,  a beautiful  type 
of  the  Aryan  woman,  accompanied  him,  and  bore 
contentedly  the  hardships  of  life  in  the  jungle  for 
love  of  her  husband.  But  Ravana,  King  of  the 


TRADITIONS  OF  A TRIBAL  HEAD  19 


Rakshasas,  who  dwelt  on  the  island  of  Lanka, 
Ceylon  of  to-day,  came  and  carried  her  away. 
Rama,  distracted  with  grief,  called  upon  the  chief- 
tains of  the  powerful  tribes  of  the  country  to  aid 
him  in  the  rescue  of  Sita.  Sugriva  of  the  mon- 
key host  was  his  most  powerful  ally.  But  there 
were  others  also,  conspicuous  among  them  Jam- 
bavan,  chief  of  the  bears. 

A great  army  of  combined  forces  is  soon  on  its 
way,  bent  on  the  rescue  of  Sita.  As  they  travel 
south,  they  reach  the  sea,  and  behold  ! On  the 
other  side  is  Lanka,  where  the  wicked  Ravana  has 
imprisoned  Sita,  the  beautiful  wife  of  Rama. 
The  powerful  hosts  of  monkeys  stand  on  the  shore 
of  the  sea,  and  as  they  realize  that  they  must 
bound  over  the  deep,  they  waver. 

They  are  addressed  by  Sugriva,  the  great 
general  of  the  army:  “Ye  hosts  of  monkeys, 

unfold  your  respective  powers  in  bounding ! ” 
There  are  rejoinders  from  several,  but  no  one 
offers  to  perform  so  great  a feat  of  valour. 

Finally  Jambavan  speaks  forth  : “Formerly  my 
prowess  in  leaping  was  great.  But  I have  waxed 
old,  and  my  vigour  sits  feebly  upon  me.”  He 


20 


A HISTORY  NOT  IN  BOOKS 


cannot  undertake  the  leap,  but  when  the  com- 
mander proposes  to  go  before  all,  “ the  exceed- 
ingly wise  Jambavan”  tells  him  that  the  dignity 
of  the  master  bids  him  order  his  servants  to  go, 
but  not  to  stoop  to  obey  an  order  which  he  him- 
self had  given.  His  advice  prevails,  and  ulti- 
mately “ the  highly  heroic  monkey  Hanuman  ” is 
convinced  that  it  is  due  to  his  courage  and  repu- 
tation that  he  should  be  the  first  to  undertake  the 
leap. 

With  a display  of  much  strategy  and  valour, 
Sita  is  rescued  from  the  palace  of  the  powerful 
Ravana,  who,  with  his  host  of  Rakshasas,  is  laid 
low. 

All  other  legends  concerning  the  Madigas  con- 
tain the  element  of  degradation,  of  subordination. 
“Jambavan,  chief  of  the  bears,”  and  Adijambuvu 
too,  in  his  original  state,  stand  high.  No  one 
looks  down  upon  them.  In  their  primitive  great- 
ness they  hold  their  own.  Alas  for  the  heavy 
lines  that  were  drawn  to  mark  their  descendants 
as  outcasts! 


THE  KING  OF  THE  MATANGAS 

If  the  Madigas  were  once  a tribe,  with  their 
tribal  chief  at  the  head,  renowned  in  legendary 
and  poetical  stories,  it  would  seem  probable  that 
somewhere  in  authentic  historical  records  there 
should  be  some  mention  of  them.  But  not  a trace 
of  them  is  to  be  found  anywhere  that  could  be 
called  historically  beyond  a doubt. 

This,  however,  is  not  surprising.  The  Dravidi- 
ans  had  no  literature  previous  to  the  time  when 
Aryan  hermits  settled  among  them  and  reduced 
their  languages  to  writing.  Had  the  learned  sages 
taken  an  interest  in  writing  chronicles,  and  put- 
ting on  record  their  experiences  in  dealing  with 
the  tribes  among  whom  they  had  settled,  ancient 
Indian  history  would  not  to-day  offer  so  large  a 
field  to  conjectures  and  suppositions.  The  learn- 
ing of  the  Aryans  was  expended  on  religious  and 
metaphysical  writings,  on  their  law-books  and  the 


21 


22 


A HISTORY  NOT  IN  BOOKS 


two  great  Sanscrit  epics.  Much  of  historical  in- 
formation may  be  gleaned  from  these  sources,  but 
it  must  be  accepted  with  some  reserve,  for  re- 
ligious motive  and  poetical  license  are  not  con- 
ducive to  an  impartial  statement  of  events. 

Yet  the  ancient  inhabitants  of  India  were  not 
without  the  very  human  desire  to  be  remembered 
by  their  descendants.  They  sought  a way  which 
seemed  to  them  the  most  permanent  to  hand 
down  to  posterity  a record  of  their  deeds.  On 
stone  tablets  and  copper  plates,  on  monumental 
stones,  the  pedestals  of  idols,  and  on  the  walls 
and  pillars  of  temples  they  engraved  their  names, 
their  victories,  and  the  defeat  of  their  enemies. 
The  student  gleans  from  this  source  a history  of 
dynasties  and  other  bare  facts  of  history  which 
are,  to  a degree,  trustworthy. 

If  a record  of  the  Madigas,  as  a tribe  among 
other  tribes,  could  be  found  in  an  inscription,  it 
would  at  once  take  their  history  out  of  the  region 
of  the  merely  conjectural  and  legendary  and  place 
it  on  a somewhat  firm  foundation.  I thought  I 
had  found  a record  of  this  kind.  It  dates  back 
to  the  year  634  A.D.,  when  Mangalisa,  a king  of 


THE  KING  OF  THE  MATANGAS  23 


the  Chalukya  dynasty,  conquered  the  Katach- 
churis,  one  of  the  early  Dravidian  dynasties. 

The  inscription  is  engraved  on  a stone  tablet 
let  into  the  outside  of  the  wall  of  a temple  at 
Aihole  in  the  Canarese  country,  and  contains  the 
following  sentence  : “ His  younger  brother  Man - 

galisa,  whose  horses  were  picketed  on  the  shores  of 
the  oceans  of  the  east  and  the  west>  and  who 
covered  all  the  points  of  the  compass  with  a canopy 
through  the  dust  of  his  armies , became  king. 
Having  with  hundreds  of  scintillating  torches , 
which  were  swords , dispelled  the  darkness , which 
was  the  race  of  the  Matangas,  in  the  bridal  pa- 
vilion of  the  field  of  battle , he  obtained  as  his  wife 
the  lovely  woman  who  was  the  goddess  of  the  for- 
tunes of  the  KatachchurisP 

As  to  whether  there  is  a reference  to  the 
ancestors  of  the  Madigas  in  the  above  sentence 
depends  on  the  interpretation  of  the  word 
Matanga.  The  word  has  several  meanings.  It 
may  signify  a “ tribe  of  the  lowest  caste.” 
Scholars  agree  that  the  term  Madiga  is  derived 
from  the  ancient  term  Matanga.  Moreover,  there 
is  a large  sub-division  of  the  Madigas  called 


24 


A HISTORY  NOT  IN  BOOKS 


Matangi.  And  the  Madigas  of  the  Canarese 
country  call  themselves  Matangi-Makkalu , which 
means  “ children  of  Matangi.” 

But  the  word  may  also  signify  “ an  elephant.” 
Eighteen  years  ago  Mr.  Fleet,  who  found  the 
inscription  and  deciphered  it,  interpreted  it  as 
“ some  aboriginal  family  of  but  little  real  power.” 
In  a revision  of  his  work,  a few  years  ago,  he 
says,  “ Examining  the  verse  again,  I consider 
that  the  components  of  it  are  connected  in  such 
a way  that  the  word  Matanga  must  be  taken  to 
denote  ‘ the  elephants  of  the  Katachchuris.’”  Thus 
the  supposition  that  the  Madigas  were  meant  in 
the  inscription  is  rendered  very  doubtful. 

There  is  nothing  left  to  do  but  to  turn  to 
traditions,  to  prize  the  legends  that  afford  some 
clue  to  the  understanding  of  social  and  political 
developments.  In  India,  where  memory  is  trained 
to  an  unusual  degree  of  retentiveness,  and  fathers 
pass  on  to  their  sons  what  they,  in  turn,  had  heard 
from  their  fathers,  legendary  accounts  are  trusted 
to  a greater  degree  than  elsewhere.  Professional 
singers,  too,  go  about  among  the  people  and 
entertain  them  with  poetical  accounts  of  the 


THE  KING  OF  THE  MATANGAS  25 


happenings  of  bygone  days.  And  thus  the  past 
reaches  over  into  the  present,  and  is  kept  from 
being  utterly  forgotten. 

Some  highly  poetical  accounts  are  to  be  found 
in  Sanscrit  stories  concerning  a king  of  the 
Matangas.  They  give  a glimpse  of  the  attitude 
of  the  Aryans  toward  the  aborigines.  And 
though  the  descriptions  are  in  the  exaggerated 
language  of  the  East,  they  give  the  leading 
characteristics  of  an  uncultured,  aboriginal  tribe. 

Thus  a Sanscrit  author,  Banabhatta,  who  lived 
about  the  year  606  A.D.,  describes  in  the  story  of 
Kadambari , the  leader  of  the  Cabaras,  Matanga 
by  name,  as  follows : “ He  was  yet  in  early 

youth ; from  his  great  hardness  he  seemed  made 
of  iron ; he  had  thick  locks  curled  at  the  ends 
and  hanging  on  his  shoulders ; his  brow  was 
broad  ; his  nose  was  stern  and  aquiline ; he  had 
the  heat  warded  off  by  a swarm  of  bees,  like  a 
peacock-feather  parasol.” 

As  the  young  leader,  Matanga,  approaches  with 
his  followers,  who,  as  the  poet  says,  numbered 
many  thousands,  they  seemed  “ like  a grove  of 
darkness  disturbed  by  sunbeams ; like  the  fol- 


26 


A HISTORY  NOT  IN  BOOKS 


lowers  of  death  roaming ; like  the  demon  world 
that  had  burst  open  hell  and  risen  up ; like  a 
crowd  of  evil  deeds  come  together ; like  a caravan 
of  curses  of  the  many  hermits  dwelling  in  the 
Dandaka  Forest.”  Such,  to  the  Brahmin  poet, 
was  the  terrible  aspect  of  the  wild  throng. 

And  then  in  his  exhaustive  description  he 
characterizes  them  much  as  a proud  Brahmin  to- 
day, with  a shrug  of  the  shoulder,  might  give  his 
opinion  concerning  the  outcaste  Madiga  : “ Their 
meat,  mead,  and  so  forth,  is  a meal  loathed  by  the 
good  ; their  exercise  is  the  chase  ; their  Shastra  is 
the  cry  of  the  jackal ; their  bosom  friends  are 
dogs.”  A wild,  aboriginal  tribe  these  followers  of 
Matanga  were ! Beyond  this  the  poet  discloses 
nothing. 

Again  we  come  upon  a king  of  the  Matangas  in 
a volume  of  Sanscrit  tales.  They  were  compiled 
by  Somadeva  Bhatta,  who  lived  about  the  year 
1125  A.D.  He  states  that  he  used  an  older  and 
larger  collection  of  tales  in  writing  his  Ocean  of 
the  Streams  of  Story , thus  placing  the  date  of  the 
action  of  the  tales  centuries  previous  to  his  com- 
pilation. 


THE  KING  OF  THE  MATANGAS  27 


He  tells  the  marvellous  tale  of  Durgapisacha, 
“ the  demon  of  the  stronghold,”  whose  aid  is 
sought  by  a noble  king  and  his  ministers  in 
accomplishing  a certain  quest  This  chief  of  the 
Matangas  is  of  terrible  valour.  Kings  cannot 
conquer  him.  He  commands  a hundred  thousand 
bowmen  of  that  tribe,  every  one  of  whom  is  fol- 
lowed by  five  hundred  warriors.  When  King 
Migrankadatta  looked  upon  the  country  of  the 
Matangas,  he  said  to  his  ministers  : “ See ! these 
men  live  a wild  forest-life  like  animals,  and  yet, 
strange  to  say,  they  recognise  Durgapisacha  as 
their  king.  There  is  no  race  in  the  world  without 
a king  ; I do  believe  the  gods  introduced  this 
magical  name  among  men  in  their  alarm,  fearing 
that  otherwise  the  strong  would  devour  the  weak, 
as  great  fishes  eat  the  little.” 

Now  when  the  King  of  the  Matangas  heard  the 
wish  of  King  Migrankadatta,  he  assured  him  that 
it  was  a small  matter  to  accomplish,  and  politely 
adds,  “ Our  lives  were  originally  created  for  your 
sake.”  The  stranger  was  a man  of  high  caste, 
yet  he  sought  to  please  the  chiefs  who  were 
willing  to  serve  him.  “ He  even  went  so  far  as 


28 


A HISTORY  NOT  IN  BOOKS 


to  make  the  King  of  the  Matangas  eat  in  his 
presence,  though  at  a little  distance  from  him.” 
Thus,  though  powerful,  and  in  a position  to  ren- 
der valuable  aid,  there  was  a very  definite  line 
of  division  between  the  noble  Aryan  Rajah  and 
the  head  of  this  aboriginal  tribe. 

As  the  tales  proceed  we  are  told  of  a Chandala 
maiden,  “ who  surpassed  with  the  loveliness  of 
her  face  the  moon,  its  enemy.”  A noble  prince 
beholds  her  as  she  charms  into  submissiveness 
an  elephant,  that  was  roaming  at  large  and  killing 
many  men.  He  goes  home  to  his  palace,  “his 
bosom  empty,  his  heart  having  been  stolen  from 
it  by  her.”  His  parents  inquire  for  the  maiden, 
and  learn  that  she  is  the  daughter  of  Matanga, 
King  of  the  Chandalas.  The  queen,  his  mother, 
asks,  “ How  comes  it  that  our  son,  though  born 
in  a royal  family,  has  fallen  in  love  with  a girl 
of  the  lowest  caste  ? ” She  is  told  that  the 
maiden  is  probably  of  a higher  caste,  and  for 
some  reason  has  fallen  among  the  Matangas. 
Several  stories  follow  to  support  this  theory. 

A messenger  is  sent  to  the  King  of  the 
Matangas,  who  approves,  but  demands  that  eigh- 


THE  KING  OF  THE  MATANGAS  29 

teen  thousand  Brahmins  must  first  eat  in  his 
house.  The  god  Siva  had  pronounced  a curse 
on  him  that  his  lot  should  be  cast  among  the 
Matangas  until  eighteen  thousand  Brahmins  had 
been  fed  in  his  house,  when  he  should  again  be 
restored  to  his  former  position  in  a higher  caste. 
The  Brahmins  were  persuaded  in  a dream  to  go 
and  eat.  They  expressed  their  willingness  to  do 
so,  but  demanded  that  the  food  be  cooked  out- 
side the  quarter  of  the  Chandalas,  for  then  only 
could  they  eat.  The  curse  of  Siva  was  removed, 
and  the  prince  married  the  maiden,  now  of  high 
degree. 

Weighed  down  by  Brahminical  inventions  and 
exaggerations  as  these  stories  are,  they  are  not 
without  touches  that  seem  true  to  life.  King 
Migrankadatta,  as  he  reflects  on  the  desire  of 
men,  though  they  live  like  the  animals  of  the 
forest,  to  recognise  some  one  as  king,  does  not 
seem  to  distinguish  between  the  Aryan  concep- 
tion of  a king  and  the  tribal  chieftainship  of 
the  aborigines.  King  Durgapisacha  had  not  the 
power  of  the  Aryan  Rajah  to  levy  taxes,  to  de- 
cide matters  of  life  and  death,  and  to  live  in 


30 


A HISTORY  NOT  IN  BOOKS 


isolated  splendour.  As  chief  of  the  tribe  of  the 
Matangas  he  probably  had  the  best  and  largest 
holding  of  land,  with  servants  and  a suitable 
retinue.  He  lead  his  tribe  in  warfare.  On  mat- 
ters of  administration  he  consulted  the  heads  of 
families. 

King  Durgapisacha,  rendered  somewhat  stilted 
and  unnatural  by  Brahminical  interpretation,  yet 
bears  resemblance  to  Adijambuvu,  the  grand- 
father of  the  Madigas. 


SCATTERED  AND  IN  SERVITUDE 


Various  causes  may  have  worked  together  to 
scatter  the  tribe  of  the  Matangas  and  to  give 
to  their  descendants  a home  on  the  outskirts 
of  the  villages  throughout  the  Telugu  country. 
There  were  probably  inter-tribal  wars  in  an- 
cient times.  Subjugated  by  some  stronger  tribe, 
the  Madigas  may  have  been  forced  into  servi- 
tude by  the  rights  of  warfare.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  search  for  occupation  may  have  been 
the  motive  that  led  to  emigration,  until  the  old 
tribal  home  was  forgotten. 

Only  in  faint  outlines  can  a picture  of  ancient 
India  be  drawn,  as  it  was  before  the  Indo- 
Aryan  appeared,  who  introduced  gradually  but 
surely  a new  order  of  society.  Vestiges  of  the 
customs  of  the  ancient  Dravidian  village  com- 
munity still  remain.  They  form  a clue  to  the 
primitive  state  of  society  in  which  caste-distinc- 


31 


34 


A HISTORY  NOT  IN  BOOKS 


vidians  were  filled  with  respect  when  they  saw 
the  intellectual  superiority  of  the  Brahminical 
hermits  who  settled  in  their  forests.  They  be- 
came pupils,  and  looked  up  to  them  as  masters. 
With  a natural  curiosity  and  interest  they  must 
have  listened  to  the  stories  told  by  the  strangers 
in  their  midst  concerning  the  northern  country 
whence  they  had  come.  They  heard  of  the  feats 
of  valour  performed  by  the  warlike  Kshatriyas, 
the  rulers  of  the  north.  Vaisya  traders  came 
among  them,  representing  the  third  caste  of  the 
twice-born  Aryan. 

There  was  a fourth  caste  in  the  north,  the 
Sudra  caste,  composed  of  the  Aryan  servants 
and  some  of  the  more  civilized  aboriginal  races 
who  had  been  conquered  by  the  invaders.  The 
free,  unconquered  Dravidians  of  the  south  stood 
far  above  the  Sudras  of  the  north.  Yet,  by  some 
process,  not  unsupported  probably  by  the  talent 
of  the  Brahmins  for  flattery  and  intrigue,  the 
Dravidians  did  not  regard  in  the  light  of  dis- 
honour the  place  accorded  to  them  as  Sudras 
in  the  scale  of  caste-distinction. 

For  the  Madigas  there  was  no  place  within 


SCATTERED  AND  IN  SERVITUDE  35 


the  pale  of  the  Indian  caste-system.  In  the 
primitive  Dravidian  village  it  was  probably  a 
matter  of  amicable  settlement  that  the  leather 
workers  should  live  together  in  a group  of  houses 
on  the  outskirts  of  the  village.  Not  until  the 
harsh  lines  of  the  Aryan  caste-system  were 
drawn  was  the  group  of  dwellings  transformed 
into  the  hovels  of  the  outcast.  And  the  rulers 
of  the  land  demanded  service  of  the  Madigas 
under  provisions  closely  resembling  slavery. 

The  condition  of  the  Madiga  community  has 
probably  changed  more  during  the  past  thirty 
years  under  British  rule  than  during  many  cen- 
turies previous  to  the  influence  of  Western  civili- 
zation. Old  men  have  told  me  of  conditions 
which  had  undoubtedly  been  in  force  since  time 
immemorial,  of  which  their  sons  knew  nothing 
by  experience.  A glimpse  of  the  life  of  the 
Madiga  in  the  Indian  village  community,  thirty 
years  ago,  furnishes,  therefore,  a link  to  the  past 
all  the  more  valuable  because  the  ancient  lines 
are  fast  disappearing. 

In  the  old  days,  when  there  were  petty  Rajahs, 
tributary  to  some  powerful  dynasty,  it  happened 


36  A HISTORY  NOT  IN  BOOKS 


occasionally  that  the  Rajah  or  his  minister,  the 
Dewan,  came  to  visit  his  domain.  It  was  con- 
venient for  them,  at  such  times,  to  find  every- 
thing provided  for  them  in  the  places  where 
they  halted.  The  potter  was  expected  to  provide 
pots ; the  washermen’s  service  was  required  ; the 
Munsiff  brought  eggs  and  milk  ; and  the  whole 
village  drew  on  its  resources.  In  turn  for  this 
service,  the  Rajah  made  grants  of  land  to  each 
according  to  the  value  of  the  service  required  of 
him  on  such  occasions.  To  the  Madigas  fell  the 
lot  of  being  the  burden-bearers  ; for,  when  roads 
were  few  and  often  impassable,  the  camp-bag- 
gage was  placed  upon  the  Yettis,  to  be  borne 
from  place  to  place.  They,  too,  received  a grant 
of  land,  seldom,  it  seems,  more  than  four  acres ; 
and  it  yielded  but  little,  for  the  Madigas  had 
not  the  bullocks  to  plough,  nor  the  time  to 
watch  their  growing  crops. 

Moreover,  Yetti-service  was  not  confined  to  the 
time  when  the  Rajah  came,  or  when  he  sent  his 
Dewan ; those  in  authority  could  at  any  time 
demand  the  service  of  the  Yettis,  and  it  was 
always  service  without  pay.  When  the  Karnam 


SCATTERED  AND  IN  SERVITUDE  37 


came  to  a village  to  collect  the  tax  for  the 
Rajah,  the  Yettis  had  to  stand  at  the  entrances  of 
the  village  and  see  that  neither  man  nor  cattle 
went  out.  After  the  tax  had  been  gathered,  the 
money  was  tied  into  the  scant  clothing  of  the 
Yetti,  and,  two  together,  they  went  long  dis- 
tances to  deliver  it  at  the  centres  of  the  dis- 
tricts. They  looked  poor  and  ragged,  and  none 
suspected  that  they  had  money  concealed  about 
them.  Arrived  at  the  place  of  destination,  they 
dared  not  approach  the  Brahmin  accountants 
within.  They  stood  afar  off,  and  held  the  pack- 
age high  in  their  hands,  till  a Sudra  servant 
came  out  to  deliver  it  to  the  Brahmins  within, 
who  would  have  considered  it  pollution  to 
accept  anything  from  the  hands  of  a Madiga 
direct. 

There  were  daily  recurring  tasks  for  the  Yet- 
tis. They  had  to  gather  wood  for  fuel  for  the 
Karnam’s  household.  If  there  were  letters  to 
carry  from  village  to  village,  the  Yettis  were 
pressed  into  service.  If  any  one  wanted  a guide 
to  point  the  way  on  an  untravelled  road,  the 
Yettis  were  placed  at  his  disposal.  Travellers 


38  A HISTORY  NOT  IN  BOOKS 


who  wanted  burden-bearers  made  their  request 
to  the  Karnam.  He  furnished  the  Yettis,  but 
kept  the  payment  for  himself,  giving  them,  at 
their  clamorous  entreaties,  a mere  fraction  of 
what  they  had  earned.  If  ever  they  dared  to 
refuse  to  work,  they  were  ill-treated,  their  few 
heads  of  cattle  were  driven  to  the  pound,  and 
the  misery  of  their  condition  was  only  increased 
by  their  remonstrance. 

Some  of  the  petty  Rajahs  ordered  their  Kar- 
nams,  or  Dewans,  to  look  for  able-bodied  Ma- 
diga  men  on  the  fields  or  in  their  huts,  and  to 
secure  them  for  menial  service.  Accordingly 
they  took  men  away  from  their  homes,  and,  if 
they  resisted,  they  were  treated  cruelly.  This 
mode  of  procedure  was  resorted  to  especially 
when  a Rajah  desired  to  dig  a tank  in  order  to 
irrigate  a district  of  land.  A Madiga  told  me 
that  his  father  was  taken  away  from  home  by 
the  servants  of  a Rajah,  and  forced  to  work  on 
the  tank  at  Podili  for  months.  They  threatened 
that  they  would  beat  him  or  bind  him,  if  he 
demurred.  He  received  only  enough  to  provide 
himself  with  food  while  digging.  To  his  family 


SCATTERED  AND  IN  SERVITUDE  39 


there  was  nothing  to  send  ; they  had  to  shift 
for  themselves  as  best  they  could. 

The  taxes  levied  by  the  Rajahs  were  an  addi- 
tional heavy  burden.  After  the  grain  had  been 
harvested  and  cleaned,  and  the  Sudras  had  mea- 
sured out  to  the  Madigas  the  part  of  the  harvest 
that  was  theirs,  on  the  principle  of  mutual  service, 
the  servants  of  the  Rajah  came  and  put  a seal 
upon  it.  The  women  could  not  use  it  for  cooking 
until  after  they  had  paid  their  tax.  If  they 
bought  a cloth,  about  one-eighth  of  the  cost  had 
to  be  paid  as  tax,  and  often  the  Rajah’s  servants 
went  to  the  washermen  to  look  over  the  clothes, 
and  if  any  were  found  without  the  seal,  they  took 
them  away. 

The  relation  of  the  Madigas  to  the  Brahmins 
was,  and  is,  serfdom,  without  the  relieving  feature 
of  a paternal  interest.  The  Sudras,  on  the  other 
hand,  though  they  have  every  opportunity  for 
oppression,  take  the  part  of  friends  and  protectors. 
The  Madiga  family  that  does  not  bear  to  some 
Sudra  land-holder  the  relation  of  serf  to  master  is 
considered  unfortunate,  and  finds  it  difficult  to  get 
food  sufficient  to  ward  off  starvation.  The  Ma- 


40 


A HISTORY  NOT  IN  BOOKS 


diga  serves  the  same  Sudra  family  from  genera- 
tion to  generation.  When  there  is  a marriage  in 
the  Sudra  family,  the  Madiga  celebrates  the  event 
by  a marriage  in  his  own  hamlet.  The  Madiga 
does  not  go  upon  a journey,  nor  does  he  enter 
upon  any  serious  undertaking,  without  consulting 
his  Sudra  master.  He  is  at  the  Sudra’s  bidding 
day  and  night.  At  seedtime  and  harvest  he  is  at 
hand,  and  while  the  crop  is  growing  he  watches 
in  the  field  to  chase  away  the  crows  in  the  day 
and  to  guard  against  thieves  in  the  night.  In 
turn  for  his  labours  he  is  paid,  not  in  coin,  but  in 
kind.  The  measures  of  grain  are  meted  out  to 
him  according  to  the  plentiful  or  scant  nature  of 
the  harvest. 

The  leather-work  for  the  Sudras  is  also  done 
on  the  principle  of  mutual  service.  When  among 
herds  of  cows  and  goats,  kept  by  the  Sudra  land- 
holder, a head  of  cattle  dies,  the  Madigas  are 
called.  They  secure  the  hide,  and,  in  turn,  they 
tan  the  leather,  sew  the  sandals  for  the  Sudra, 
make  the  trappings  for  his  bullocks,  and  do  any 
other  leather-work  that  is  required.  In  parts  ol 
the  country  where  the  soil  is  dry  and  hard,  the 


SCATTERED  AND  IN  SERVITUDE  41 


Sudras  dig  deep  wells  in  their  fields  and  with  the 
help  of  bullocks  draw  the  water  to  the  surface, 
where,  through  little  channels,  it  irrigates  the  whole 
field.  For  this  purpose  large  leather  buckets  are 
required,  and  the  Madiga  community  finds  frequent 
employment  in  making  them  and  keeping  them 
in  repair. 

By  right  of  trade  the  Madiga  secures  not  only 
the  hide  of  cattle,  the  carcase  too  is  his.  As  death 
is  always  caused  by  disease,  never  by  slaughter 
the  flesh  is  poisonous  and  loathsome  in  the  ex- 
treme, especially  in  a country  where  decomposi- 
tion is  a rapid  process.  In  this  phase  of  their 
occupation  lies  the  beginning  and  the  end  of  the 
Madiga’s  degradation.  Hungry  many  a day  in 
the  year,  living  by  the  month  on  one  meal  a day, 
seldom  in  possession  of  the  means  to  buy  meat 
fit  to  eat,  they  do  not  shrink  from  the  loathsome- 
ness of  the  meal  which  is  furnished  them  by  the 
carcase  that  is  theirs  by  right  of  trade.  It  is  this 
to  which  their  legends  point  as  the  curse  with 
which  their  tribe  has  been  laid  low.  Perhaps  in 
the  early  days,  when  Jambuvu,  “the  grandfather 
of  the  Madigas,”  lived,  it  was  less  difficult  to  ob- 


42 


A HISTORY  NOT  IN  BOOKS 


tain  food  to  quench  hunger.  A famine,  such  as  is 
told  of  in  ancient  records,  that  swept  the  land  and 
almost  depopulated  it,  may  have  taught  the  Madi- 
gas  to  eat  the  flesh  that  poisoned  the  blood  in 
their  veins,  that  rendered  them  filthy  and  an  ob- 
ject of  abhorrence  to  the  Hindu,  who  is  forbidden 
to  kill  and  eat  flesh  of  any  kind.  And  afterwards 
he  was  unable  to  raise  himself  from  abject  poverty. 

The  Madigas  are  miserably  poor.  I enquired 
into  their  condition  in  several  districts,  and  found 
that,  striking  an  average,  only  one-third  of  the 
Madiga  population  is  above  absolute  want.  But 
the  possessions  of  this  favoured  one-third,  too,  are 
readily  enumerated.  Each  family  lives  in  a hut 
built  of  stone  laid  in  mud,  and  covered  with  thatch, 
giving  a room  about  ten  feet  square.  By  way  of 
furniture  there  are  a few  cots,  made  of  a frame  of 
wood  with  twine  woven  across,  and  a few  low 
stools.  Earthen  pots,  large  and  small,  used  as 
cooking  utensils,  a few  baskets,  a few  brass  uten- 
sils, a stone  to  pound  the  rice,  and  a roller  to 
grind  the  curry-powder  complete  the  arrangements 
of  the  household.  There  may  be  a cow,  perhaps 
a buffalo,  several  calves  and  some  fowls.  Each 


SCATTERED  AND  IN  SERVITUDE  43 


member  of  the  family  has  two  suits  of  clothes 
and  a cotton  sheet  for  covering  at  night.  The 
women  have  strings  of  beads  and  a little  cheap 
jewellery.  Perhaps  a bamboo  box  hangs  from  the 
beam  that  supports  the  roof  of  the  house,  contain- 
ing red  clothes  to  wear  when  invited  to  festivals 
A family  whose  possessions  are  as  above  specified 
is  considered  a thrifty,  well-to-do  Madiga  family. 

But  two-thirds  of  the  Madiga  community  have 
only  a portion  of  the  above-mentioned  possessions. 
Cattle  is  lacking,  there  are  no  cots,  no  brass  ves- 
sels, no  red  clothes  for  holiday  attire.  A few  suits 
of  clothes  constitute  the  outfit  of  the  whole  family. 
If  any  of  them  need  to  make  themselves  present- 
able, they  wear  the  better  part  of  the  wardrobe  of 
the  family.  Many  a day  in  the  year  they  go 
hungry,  glad  if  they  can  get  a meal  of  boiled 
grain  of  a kind  that  is  cheaper  even  than  rice, 
and  a little  pepper- water  poured  over  it  to  give 
it  a relish. 

Crushed  by  serfdom,  debased  by  poverty,  the 
Madigas  yet  uphold  among  them  village  jurisdic- 
tion on  a small  scale.  The  Sudra  village  has  its 
headman,  the  Madiga  hamlet  has  its  Madiga  chief. 


44 


A HISTORY  NOT  IN  BOOKS 


He  represents  the  Madiga  village  on  special 
occasions.  If  hospitality  is  to  be  extended,  it  is 
his  roof  that  must  shelter  the  guest.  Disputes 
and  quarrels  are  brought  to  him  for  settlement. 
If  public  opinion  in  the  Madiga  hamlet  is  roused 
against  the  misdeeds  of  one  who  has  his  home 
in  it,  the  Madiga  headman,  perhaps  with  several 
of  the  older  men  to  assist  him,  passes  judgment, 
levies  a fine,  or  expels  the  evil-doer  from  the  bor- 
ders of  the  village.  The  fines  pass  into  the  hands 
of  the  Madiga  headman,  as  remuneration  for  the 
expense  borne  in  extending  hospitality  and  the 
time  given  to  his  administrative  duties. 

Thus,  though  scattered  and  in  servitude,  the 
Madigas  cling  to  their  ancient  tribal  organization. 
They  submit  to  the  Munsiff  and  the  Karnam  ; 
they  bend  low  and  even  cringe  before  those  who 
have  authority  over  them.  But,  in  their  own  ham- 
let, they  give  to  one  of  their  number  the  dignity 
of  representing  the  interests  of  all.  They  thus 
prove  their  affinity  to  the  stronger  Dravidian 
tribes.  And  the  tenacity  of  their  tribal  character 
becomes  the  vehicle  of  civilizing  and  educating 
forces  at  the  present  time. 


TRANSFORMED  INTO  A BUFFALO 


The  Komati  Chetty  sits  in  the  bazaar  behind 
his  wares.  He  has  baskets  of  grain  before  him. 
There  is  a basket  of  tamarind,  another  of  red 
pepper.  Not  everything  is  displayed  and  tempt- 
ingly laid  out  for  the  eyes  of  questioning  pur- 
chasers on  his  verandah.  There  is  a door  behind 
him,  which,  when  open,  reveals  bags  and  baskets 
filled  with  wares  stored  away. 

Perhaps  he  deals  in  cloth,  in  needles  and  thread 
and  scissors,  in  beads  and  glittering  ornaments 
made  of  paste  diamonds  and  rubies.  Ask  him  for 
a few  yards  of  tape,  and  he  dives  into  the  well- 
stocked  “ go-down  ” that  opens  from  his  verandah, 
pulls  out  a package,  opens  it  before  you  and  dis- 
plays tapes  of  different  widths.  He  brings  out 
fine  muslin  and  flowered  chintz,  and  says,  “ Buy, 
missus,  verry  cheap.”  He  even  has  a china  pug 
dog  to  show  you,  and  cheap  playthings  that  are 


45 


46  A HISTORY  NOT  IN  BOOKS 


marked  “ Made  in  Germany.”  Ask  him  the 
“proper  price,”  and  he  mentions  three  times  the 
amount  which  he  can  justly  claim.  Bargain  with 
him,  decide  finally  that  you  do  not  want  his  wares, 
and  he  will  hand  them  to  you  at  a reasonable 
cost. 

The  Komati  is  often  a wealthy  man.  He  has 
money,  and  lends  it  at  high  interest.  The  women 
go  to  him  and  buy  the  rice  for  the  evening  meal, 
and  the  various  spices  that  go  to  make  a good 
curry.  Pariah  women,  too,  must  come  to  buy. 
Sometimes  the  scant  cooley  which  the  family  has 
earned  is  not  enough  to  supply  food  for  all,  though 
they  buy  the  cheapest  kind  of  grain.  Then  they 
go  into  debt  with  the  Komati,  and  he  keeps  them 
in  fear  and  anxiety  until  the  debt  is  paid. 

It  would  not  occur  to  any  one  that  there  could 
be  a connection  between  the  wealthy,  prosperous 
Komati  and  the  poor,  despised  Madiga  if  peculiar 
customs  did  not  exist  that  point  to  some  kind  of  tie 
between  them.  The  Komatis  are  not  pleased  with 
a reference  to  these  customs.  The  ill-will  of  other 
castes,  they  say,  spreads  these  tales  about  them. 

The  marriage  ceremonies  of  the  Komatis  are 


TRANSFORMED  INTO  A BUFFALO  47 

generally  as  elaborate  as  their  wealth  will  permit. 
Friends  and  relatives  are  invited  to  sumptuous 
feasts.  But,  though  the  Madiga  would  not  be  a 
guest  in  any  way  desirable,  he  must  be  invited, 
lest  ill-fortune  befall  the  young  couple.  And  the 
Madiga  is  far  from  coveting  such  an  invitation  ; 
he  considers  it  unlucky  and  insulting.  Should  a 
Komati  dare  to  extend  it  openly,  his  messenger 
might  be  treated  roughly  at  the  hands  of  the  irate 
Madigas. 

The  Komati  waits  for  a time  when  it  is  not 
likely  that  the  Madigas  will  see  him.  He  takes 
the  iron  vessel  with  which  he  measures  the  grain 
and  makes  his  way  to  the  Madiga  hamlet.  Hiding 
behind  one  of  the  houses,  he  whispers  into  the 
vessel,  “In  the  house  of  the  small  ones  (Komatis) 
a marriage  is  to  take  place ; the  members  of  the 
big  house  (Madigas)  are  to  come.” 

But  this  is  not  sufficient.  The  light  with  which 
the  fire  is  kindled  during  the  marriage  ceremony 
must  come  from  the  house  of  the  Madiga.  There 
is  obstinate  refusal  when  asked.  Perhaps  the  men 
of  the  Madiga  hamlet  grow  angry  when  they  hear 
of  the  request.  Strategy  must  be  employed, 


48  A HISTORY  NOT  IN  BOOKS. 


the  light  which  the  Madiga  refuses  to  give 
must  be  taken  from  him  by  stealth,  to  satisfy 
custom. 

There  must  be  some  reason  for  these  customs. 
Major  Mackenzie  observed  them  even  as  far  south 
as  the  Mysore  district,  where  the  Madigas  have 
emigrated.  He  suggests  that  the  connection 
between  two  such  different  castes  as  the  Madigas 
and  Komatis  may  lie  in  the  fact  that  both  wor- 
ship the  same  goddess.  The  Komatis  have  as 
their  caste-goddess  the  virgin  Karnika-Amma, 
who  destroyed  herself  rather  than  marry  a prince, 
because  he  was  of  another  caste.  She  is  repre- 
sented by  a vessel  full  of  water,  and  during  the 
marriage  ceremony  is  brought  in  state  from  her 
temple  and  is  placed  on  the  seat  of  honour  in 
the  house.  The  Madigas  claim  Karnika  as  their 
goddess,  under  the  name  Matangi,  and  object  to 
seeing  the  Komatis  take  her  away. 

This  is  certainly  significant,  showing  that  there 
is  connection  between  the  two  castes,  not  only 
by  social  customs,  but  also  by  similar  religious 
interests.  I have  heard  a legend  which  may 
throw  some  light  on  the  subject.  It  was  told 


BUFFALOES  BATHING  IN  A TANK. 


TRANSFORMED  INTO  A BUFFALO  49 


by  a Komati,  and,  like  most  Indian  legends, 
includes  the  element  of  the  impossible. 

There  was  once  a Brahmin  who,  contrary  to  the 
rules  of  caste,  lived  with  a Madiga  woman.  He 
was  versed  in  the  arts  of  the  magician,  and,  by 
his  magic,  he  transformed  her  by  day  into  the 
body  of  a buffalo ; at  night  she  was  again  a 
woman.  They  had  eleven  children. 

One  day  the  Brahmin  was  called  away  on 
urgent  work.  He  called  his  children  and  charged 
them  to  care  for  the  buffalo,  to  untie  it  and  take 
it  to  the  field  to  graze. 

The  children  did  not  know  of  the  transforma- 
tion which  took  place  every  day.  Thoughtlessly 
they  drove  the  buffalo  before  them  to  pasture, 
and  when  it  would  not  go  as  they  wished  they 
beat  it  with  a stick.  But  the  buffalo  was  old 
and  weak.  It  fell  down  and  died. 

The  father  came  home,  and  the  children  told 
him  that  the  buffalo  was  dead.  He  asked  how 
it  died,  and  said : “ Alas,  the  buffalo  was  your 
mother ! As  an  expiation  of  your  crime,  go  and 
cut  up  the  buffalo  and  eat  it.”  The  Komatis 
are  said  to  be  the  descendants  of  these  children. 


W.S.S. 


4 


50 


A HISTORY  NOT  IN  BOOKS 


Once  a year  the  Komatis  shape  a lump  of 
dough,  made  of  rice-flour,  into  a four-legged 
animal,  to  represent  a buffalo.  Each  member 
of  the  family  takes  a little  of  it  and  eats  it. 
This  ceremony  is  called  Nabsanimudda. 

The  legend  and  this  household  ceremony  have 
something  in  common.  It  is  not  impossible  that 
the  Komatis  may  be  of  mixed  descent.  I looked 
for  information  concerning  them  in  the  Manual 
of  A dministration  of  the  Madras  Presidency,  and 
found  that  they  are  said  to  have  emigrated  from 
some  place  in  the  north,  a few  authorities  mention 
Penoocondah,  which  was  a place  of  importance 
under  the  Vijayanagar  dynasty.  There  is  evi- 
dently some  doubt  as  to  the  locality  from  which 
they  have  sprung,  and  nothing  definite  is  known 
of  their  origin.  They  claim  to  be  purer  Vaisyas 
than  other  subdivisions  of  the  trading-castes, 
and  are  divided  into  many  clans. 

Neither  Komatis  nor  Madigas  are  pleased  with 
the  connection  between  them.  Strange,  therefore, 
that  it  is  so  enduring. 


ANCIENT  MOTHER-WORSHIP 


The  Curse  of  Arundhati 

The  Initiation  of  a Matangi 

The  Matangi  in  Legends  and  Stories 

The  Fiend  Mahalakshmi 

Secret  Meetings  and  Midnight  Orgies 


THE  CURSE  OF  ARUNDHATI 


There  was  once  upon  a time  a Brahmin  who 
had  done  many  evil  deeds.  He  believed  that 
he  could  receive  the  expiation  of  all  his  sins  if 
he  found  a woman  who  had  faith  sufficient  to 
transform  sand  into  rice.  He  inquired  among 
all  castes,  but  nowhere  was  there  a woman  who 
had  this  supernatural  power. 

Finally  he  came  to  the  Madigas.  Now  the 
maiden  Arunzodi  heard  of  his  quest.  She  ap- 
peared before  him  and  said  : “ I can  do  it,  but 
I am  of  low  birth.  My  father  is  wont  to  kill 
cows  and  eat  them.  We  are  outcasts.” 

The  Brahmin  was  exceedingly  glad,  and  he 
besought  the  maiden  to  grant  his  request,  not- 
withstanding her  low  degree.  He  argued  with 
her,  but  Arunzodi  said,  “ When  my  elder  brother 


53 


54 


ANCIENT  MOTHER-WORSHIP 


comes  home  and  sees  you,  his  wrath  will  be  great, 
for  we  eat  meat.” 

This  did  not  convince  the  Brahmin  ; he  insisted, 
and  finally  Arunzodi  yielded.  He  brought  sand 
and  she  put  it  into  the  pot.  He  broke  iron  into 
small  pieces,  and  this  also  she  put  into  a pot. 
She  saw  what  she  had  in  the  two  pots,  but  so 
great  was  her  faith,  she  proceeded  to  boil  it. 

With  great  anxiety  the  Brahmin  stood  by  and 
watched.  When  Arunzodi  had  finished  cooking, 
behold ! one  of  the  pots  contained  boiled  rice, 
the  other  was  full  of  curry.  Certain  that  he 
had  found  his  saviour,  the  Brahmin  asked  for 
Arunzodi  in  marriage. 

But  now  the  elder  brother  came  home.  He 
was  enraged  when  he  heard  what  had  happened, 
and  threatened  to  do  violence  to  the  Brahmin  and 
to  Arunzodi,  his  sister,  also.  No  one  among  the 
Madigas  befriended  them,  for  all  said : “ She  is 
bringing  a stranger  into  our  households  and  our 
caste  ! Turn  them  out ! Away  with  them  ! ” 

Then  it  was  that  Arunzodi,  before  the  eyes  of 
all,  rose  to  heaven.  And  she  cursed  them,  saying : 
“You  shall  be  the  slaves  of  all.  Though  you  work 


THE  CURSE  OF  ARUNDHATI 


55 


and  toil,  it  shall  not  raise  your  condition.  Un- 
clothed and  untaught  you  shall  be,  ignorant  and 
despised  from  henceforth  ! ” Thus  Arunzodi 
cursed  her  people  as  she  rose  up,  and  they  and 
the  Brahmin  were  left  standing  and  gazing  after 
her. 

The  Madigas  cannot  forget  Arunzodi.  The 
Dasulu  often  tell  the  story  of  her  faith,  and  of 
the  curse  with  which  she  cursed  her  people,  which, 
alas ! has  been  fulfilled.  And  as  the  Dasulu 
recite  they  accompany  themselves  with  instru- 
ments. 

There  are  other  legends  about  Arundhati,  which 
is  the  Sanscrit  form  of  the  Telugu  word  Arunzodi , 
and  means  “ everlasting  light.”  One  is  that 
Arundhati  was  re-born  as  a Madiga  woman,  and 
married  the  sage  Vasishta,  the  brother  of  the 
great  Agastya.  She  bore  him  one  hundred  sons, 
ninety-six  of  whom  reverted  to  the  Pariah  state, 
because  they  disobeyed  their  father,  while  the 
other  four  remained  Brahmins.  Among  the 
hymns  of  the  Rig  Veda  there  is  a bridal  hymn. 
At  the  close  this  verse  occurs:  “As  Anusuya  is 
to  Atri,  as  Arundhati  to  Vasishta,  as  Sati  to 


56  ANCIENT  MOTHER- WORSHIP 


Kausika,  so  be  thou  to  thy  husband, It  is 
significant  that  in  Sanscrit  dictionaries  both 
Arundhati  and  Matangi  are  mentioned  as  the 
“ wife  of  Vasishta,”  making  the  two  identical. 

When  they  have  a wedding,  the  Madigas 
specially  remember  Arunzodi.  After  one  of  the 
Madiga  Dasulu  has  performed  the  marriage  rites, 
as  ancient  custom  demands,  it  is  thought  well  for 
the  prosperity  of  bride  and  bridegroom  if  they, 
accompanied  by  their  friends,  go  out  under  the 
starlit  heaven  to  greet  Arunzodi.  Though  she 
may  not  be  visible,  her  cot  is  always  there,  and 
all  can  find  it.  The  four  bright  stars  in  Ursa 
Major  are  the  feet  of  her  cot,  made  of  very 
precious  material.  The  three  stars  on  one  side 
of  the  four  are  thieves,  who  are  stealing  three 
feet  of  the  cot,  and  have  already  pulled  the  cot 
crooked,  for  the  four  feet  form  an  irregular  square. 
And  so  the  young  couple  look  at  the  cot,  and 
say,  “ Arunzodi  cannot  be  far  away ! ” They 
bow  and  worship,  for  they  believe  that  she  has 
power  to  bless. 

Arunzodi  is  not  the  only  Pariah  woman  who, 
in  legendary  history,  is  vested  with  the  power 


THE  CURSE  OF  ARUNDHATI 


57 


of  working  miracles  by  reason  of  great  faith. 
Very  different  is  the  story  of  the  meek  Vasugi ; 
yet  she  too  took  sand  and  boiled  it,  and  it  be- 
came rice. 

Vasugi  was  the  wife  of  the  Tamil  sage  and  poet 
Tiruvalluvar,  who,  according  to  tradition,  was  a 
Pariah  weaver,  living  near  Madras  about  iooo  or 
1200  A.D.  There  was,  in  his  day,  a famous 
Sanscrit  Academy  in  Madura,  to  which  all  Tamil 
scholars  of  that  day  belonged.  When  the  Pariah 
bard  presented  himself,  with  his  thirteen  hundred 
couplets,  his  want  of  caste  was  made  an  excuse  for 
his  exclusion.  Yet  down  to  the  present  day  his 
chief  work,  the  Kurral,  is  considered  by  Hindus  of 
all  classes  a work  of  high  moral  and  religious 
worth. 

To  the  poet  Tiruvalluvar  the  maiden  Vasugi 
was  offered  in  marriage  by  her  father.  He  was 
inclined  to  accept  her,  for  he  considered  domestic 
virtue  the  highest  virtue,  but  resolved  first  to  try 
the  maiden’s  gifts.  “If  she  will  take  this  sand,” 
he  said,  “ and  boil  it  into  rice  for  me,  she  shall  be 
my  wife.”  Vasugi  took  the  basket  of  sand  from 
his  hands.  She  felt  sure  that  what  the  holy  man 


58  ANCIENT  MOTHER-WORSHIP 


ordained  was  possible  and  right.  Her  faith  was 
great.  She  boiled  the  sand,  and  as  a virtuous 
woman  has  power  with  the  gods,  a miracle  was 
wrought,  and  she  brought  the  sage  the  rice  for 
which  he  asked.  She  became  his  faithful,  obedient 
wife. 

The  years  passed,  and  the  poet’s  fame  spread. 
Attracted  thereby,  a stranger  came  to  his  cottage 
and  asked  the  question  so  much  discussed  at  that 
time  in  India  : “ Which  is  greater,  domestic  life  or 
a life  of  asceticism  ? ” The  sage  courteously 
entertained  the  stranger,  but  gave  no  reply  to  his 
question.  He  left  him  to  judge  for  himself  the 
nature  of  his  domestic  life.  It  happened,  one  day, 
that  the  poet  called  his  wife  while  she  was  drawing 
water  from  the  well.  She  instantly  came,  leaving 
the  bucket  hanging  midway  in  the  well.  Again, 
when  she  brought  him  his  morning  meal  of  cold 
rice,  he  complained  that  it  burnt  his  mouth. 
Without  question  or  hesitation  she  began  to  fan 
it.  And  when,  in  broad  daylight,  he  dropped  his 
shuttle,  while  weaving,  and  called  for  a light  to 
seek  it,  she  lit  the  lamp  and  brought  it  to  him. 

The  stranger  exclaimed  : “ Where  such  a wife  is 


THE  CURSE  OF  ARUNDHATI 


59 


found,  domestic  life  is  best.  Where  such  a wife  is 
not,  the  life  of  the  ascetic  is  to  be  preferred ! ” 
When  the  meek  Vasugi,  the  poet’s  wife,  closed 
her  eyes  in  death,  it  was  said  of  her  that  she  had 
never  during  her  whole  married  life  questioned 
her  lord’s  command.  The  character  of  Vasugi, 
meek,  gentle,  humble,  is  in  accordance  with  the 
spirit  of  the  Kurral,  the  Pariah  poet’s  chief  work. 

To  what  extent  the  tradition  of  Vasugi  was 
influenced  by  Aryan  ideals  of  the  perfect  woman 
is  a question.  The  discussion  concerning  the  value 
of  asceticism  speaks  of  Aryan  rather  than  Dra- 
vidian  influence.  The  story  of  Vasugi,  like  that 
of  Arunzodi,  is  not  free  from  Brahminical  im- 
positions. There  are  few  legends  in  India  that 
do  not  bear  the  imprint  of  Brahminical  extrava- 
gance, and  the  ill-concealed  effort  of  the  twice- 
born  to  magnify  their  own  supremacy.  A legend, 
therefore,  which  by  its  simplicity  and  artlessness 
proves  its  purely  Dravidian  origin  is  the  more 
to  be  prized.  The  following  legend  was  taken 
from  the  oral  tradition  of  the  Coorgs,  one  of 
the  smaller  Dravidian  tribes. 

In  ancient  times  there  lived  in  the  Malabar 


6o 


ANCIENT  MOTHER-WORSHIP 


country  six  brothers  and  a sister.  They  went 
together  to  Coorg,  but  the  brothers  were  not  pleased 
because  the  sister  came  with  them,  and  they 
decided  to  spoil  her  caste.  On  the  way  they  were 
hungry,  and  said  to  the  sister,  “ Prepare  us  some 
food.”  She  replied,  “ There  is  neither  fire  nor  rice.” 
They  said,  “ We  will  give  you  rice,  but  you  must 
boil  it  without  fire.”  She  replied,  “ I will  boil  it 
without  fire,  but  you  must  eat  it  without  salt.” 
To  this  the  brothers  agreed. 

The  sister  saw  a cow  and  milked  her,  letting  the 
milk  fall  into  the  vessel  of  rice.  Then  she  went  to 
the  bank  of  a river,  buried  the  pot  in  the  sand, 
and  it  began  to  boil.  The  brothers  awoke  from 
their  sleep  and  ate. 

Later,  while  sitting  together,  chewing  betel,  they 
said,  “ Let  us  see  whose  betel  is  the  reddest.” 
They  all  spat  out  the  betel  into  their  hands,  looked 
at  it,  and  the  brothers  threw  it  behind  their  heads. 
The  sister,  deluded  by  this,  threw  the  betel  back 
into  her  mouth  and  went  on  chewing.  The 
brothers  now  said  she  had  lost  her  caste.  She 
was  excessively  grieved  and  wept  bitterly. 

One  of  the  brothers  threw  an  arrow,  and  ordered 


THE  CURSE  OF  ARUNDHATI 


61 


his  sister  to  go  with  it  and  stay  where  it  fell.  She 
assumed  the  form  of  a crane  and  alighted  on  a 
Pariah,  working  in  the  rice  fields.  He  became 
possessed  with  a devil  and  ran  towards  the  mango 
tree,  where  the  arrow  was  sticking.  A temple  was 
built  around  this  tree,  where  the  Coorgs  still  wor- 
ship the  sister  of  the  six  brothers,  especially  at  her 
annual  feast. 

The  Coorgs,  like  the  Tamils  and  Telugus,  are  ot 
Dravidian  stock.  There  is  a family  resemblance 
in  these  three  legends.  In  each  the  chief  figure  is 
that  of  a woman,  who,  in  the  ordinary  labour  of 
cooking  rice,  is  endowed  with  miraculous  gifts. 
These  legends  of  three  Pariah  women  stand  in  a 
line  with  the  cults  that  are  Mother-worship.  The 
Dravidians  believe  that  women  may  come  in  touch 
with  mysterious  forces,  and  that  if  they  have 
sufficient  faith  they  can  compel  these  forces  to 
be  subservient  to  them. 


THE  INITIATION  OF  A MATANGI 


As  I stepped  out  upon  the  verandah  one  morn- 
ing, I was  greeted  by  the  salaam  of  my  old  friend, 
Konikaluri  Yelliah.  The  dazzling  whiteness  of 
his  turban  emphasized  the  dark  hue  of  the  face 
beneath,  which  beamed  in  expectation  of  the 
things  that  were  to  come. 

“ Did  you  come  walking  all  these  sixty  miles  ? ” 
“How  could  I walk?  Am  I not  an  old  man? 
By  your  leave  I came  by  bullock-bandy.” 

“ And  what  have  you  to  tell  me  now  ? ” 

“ Whatever  you  give  leave,  that  will  I tell.” 
This  was  the  polite  reply  which  I had  heard 
many  a time.  It  had  happened  repeatedly  that 
my  questions,  far  from  bringing  to  light  valuable 
material,  only  revealed  the  fact  that  there  was 
nothing  to  draw  forth.  I regarded  Yelliah,  as  he 
sat  facing  me,  as  an  experiment. 

6fl 


THE  INITIATION  OF  A MATANGI  63 

“ Tell  me,”  I said,  “ about  the  old  days.” 

“ My  mother,  Ammah,  was  a Matangi.” 

“ And  what  is  that  ? ” I asked. 

“ A Matangi  is  a Madiga  woman,  who  is  pos- 
sessed by  Ellama.” 

“And  who  is  Ellama?” 

“ She  is  Adimata,  the  mother  who  was  from  the 
beginning.” 

By  this  time  I had  straitened  myself.  I dipped 
my  pen  into  the  ink  with  an  air  of  business.  I 
took  my  note-book,  and  I said,  “ Now,  Yelliah, 
begin  at  the  very  beginning.” 

And  Yelliah  began  far  back  with  his  great- 
grandmother, who  was  a Matangi.  His  grand- 
mother was  not  invested  with  the  power.  He  was 
his  mother’s  eldest  child,  and  when  he  was  about 
three  years  old  something  strange  happened  to 
her.  She  was  well,  and  had  been  going  to  her 
work  as  usual,  when,  one  Adivaramu,  being  the 
first  day  of  the  week,  after  the  offering  of  food  had 
been  placed  in  the  Ellama  idol-house,  she  began 
to  act  in  a peculiar  way. 

She  sat  apart  at  meal-time,  and  refused  to  eat. 
It  was  harvest-time,  and  for  two  weeks  she  went 


64  ANCIENT  MOTHER-WORSHIP 


to  the  fields  as  usual,  but  aside  from  the  grain, 
which  she  ate  as  she  worked,  she  would  not  par- 
take of  food.  The  Sudras,  for  whom  the  family 
worked,  noticed  this.  The  whole  village  began 
to  watch  her  closely,  for  she  looked  this  way 
and  that,  and  laughed  to  herself.  They  said, 
“ What  does  it  all  mean  ? ” 

It  soon  became  a matter  of  discussion  in  the 
community,  for  there  were  many  who  worshipped 
Ellama.  No  matter  whether  any  one  was  a 
Sivite  or  a Vishnuite,  he  yet  thought  it 
well  to  worship  Ellama.  When  it  was  decided, 
therefore,  that  a council  should  be  called  to  inves- 
tigate whether  this  woman  was  really  invested 
with  the  power  of  Ellama,  a very  general  interest 
was  shown.  Sudras  and  Brahmins  came,  but  the 
man  who  was  head  of  the  council  was  the  head- 
man of  the  Madiga  village,  who,  as  such,  had  the 
function  of  entering  the  Ellama  idol-house  once 
a week  with  offerings  of  milk,  butter,  and  fruit. 

The  test  agreed  upon  was  that  the  Bainurdu, 
who  is  the  minstrel  in  the  Ellama  sect,  should 
recite  the  story  of  Ellama  in  the  presence  of  the 
woman.  If  Ellama’s  power  had  come  upon  her, 


THE  INITIATION  OF  A MATANGI  65 


she  would  dance,  inspired  by  the  goddess  ; if  it  was 
an  evil  spirit  that  possessed  her,  the  story  would 
not  affect  her.  Without  loss  of  time  the  test  was 
made ; and  as  soon  as  the  minstrel  began  the 
young  woman  danced,  and  not  only  she,  but  her 
husband  and  other  members  of  the  family  also 
danced,  and  thus  it  was  evident  that  Ellama’s 
power  possessed  the  family. 

All  were  now  convinced  that  they  had  a new 
Matangi  in  this  woman.  It  was  considered  an 
event,  for  Matangis  were  rare,  only  one  or  two 
in  a Taluk.  It  was  decided  that  an  old  Matangi 
from  an  adjoining  Taluk  should  be  called  to 
initiate  the  new  Matangi  into  the  rites  of  the 
office.  The  family  had  to  bear  the  expense  of  the 
initiation,  about  sixteen  rupees,  which  necessitated 
a debt ; but  they  did  not  hesitate,  for  they  knew 
that  afterwards  there  would  be  great  gain.  An 
atmosphere  of  expectancy  and  anticipation  was 
abroad  in  the  community. 

There  lived  a Reddi  in  the  place,  who  was  chief 
of  the  Reddis,  one  of  the  branches  of  the  Sudra 
caste.  Years  before  he  had  had  a serpent 
made,  life-size,  of  silver,  gold,  copper,  and  various 

5 


w.s.s. 


66 


ANCIENT  MOTHER- WORSHIP 


metals,  and  then  he,  and  a number  of  villagers  as 
witnesses,  had  gone  to  Sulvesanama  Kona,  where 
the  Gundlacumma  River  flows  through  a cave,  and 
where  there  is  a famous  place  of  worship.  Here 
the  Reddi  fulfilled  certain  conditions,  and  went 
through  initiatory  rites,  for  which  he  received  a 
certificate  from  the  officiating  priests.  His  'wife 
had  gone  with  him,  and  had  also  met  all  con- 
ditions, so  that  she,  too,  could  take  a prominent 
part  in  the  worship  of  the  snake,  when,  after  their 
return  home,  they  were  asked  here  and  there  with 
the  serpent. 

The  great  day  came  when  the  old  Matangi 
arrived.  The  Madiga  headman  went  into  the 
little  thatch-roof  house,  sacred  to  Ellama,  and 
took  out  the  pot,  hung  to  the  roof,  that 
contained  coins  and  shells  and  other  articles 
emblematical  of  Ellama  and  her  sons.  The  pot 
was  taken  to  the  village-tank  in  the  morning,  and 
left  in  the  water  all  day,  a man  remaining  near  by 
as  guard.  In  the  evening  all  went  to  take  it  out 
of  the  water,  worship  it,  and  take  it  back  to  the 
village.  One  goat  was  killed  near  the  water, 
another  half-way  to  the  house,  and  a third  after 


THE  INITIATION  OF  A MATANGI  67 


reaching  the  house,  where  the  blood  was  painted 
over  the  door-frame.  The  Reddi  had  brought 
his  serpent  and  placed  it,  with  its  hood  spread, 
where  the  offerings  of  rice  could  be  piled  up 
around  it. 

That  same  night,  after  the  serpent  had  been 
worshipped,  the  old  Matangi  and  the  Reddi’s 
wife  sat  down  together  on  the  back  of  a goat. 
It  lay  down  with  the  weight,  but  was  dragged 
three  times  around  the  spot  where  the  serpent 
and  all  the  offerings  were.  Instruments  were 
played,  and  the  bystanders  danced  the  wild  dance 
of  possession.  Whatever  trouble  or  sickness  there 
was  among  the  people  would,  it  was  believed,  fall 
upon  the  goat  and  die  with  it.  It  was  half  dead, 
after  being  dragged  three  times  around  the 
circle,  and  was  then  taken  to  one  side  and 
killed. 

On  the  next  day  all  the  rice  and  other  offerings 
that  had  been  heaped  around  the  serpent  were 
cooked  by  Sudras  ; for  Brahmins  too  were  coming 
to  eat,  and  if  Sudras  cooked  it,  the  caste  pre- 
judices of  all  were  respected.  There  was  a feast, 
and  then  all  returned  to  their  own  houses.  The 


68 


ANCIENT  MOTHER- WORSHIP 


old  Matangi  also  went  home.  The  new  Matangi 
had  been  passive  throughout,  had  simply  looked 
on.  She  and  her  family  worshipped  Ellama  for 
one  week,  and  then  went  to  their  work  as  usual. 
She  showed  no  further  signs  of  possession.  Only 
when  stories  of  Ellama  were  recited,  she  and 
others  of  the  family  began  the  dance. 

During  the  year  that  followed  the  family  and 
others  of  the  Madigas  worked  and  saved,  and  laid 
up  grain,  and  contracted  debts  to  meet  the  initi- 
atory rites  that  were  to  follow.  They  could  not 
accept  help  from  the  Sudras,  or  any  one  else,  for 
the  Matangi  must  come  from  the  Madigas.  It 
is  a Madiga  affair,  and  while  other  castes  may 
share,  they  cannot  have  any  initiative.  A new 
pot  was  made  for  Ellama ; shells  and  pebbles 
were  brought  from  the  sea ; water  from  the 
Krishna  River  was  brought  to  wash  them. 

Before  the  initiation  could  take  place,  however, 
a final  test  was  ordained,  to  prove  that  the  woman 
was  really  worthy  of  the  office.  On  the  floor 
of  a house  a figure  in  three  parts  was  drawn,  with 
white,  red,  and  yellow  powder.  In  one  part  the 
serpent  had  its  place,  in  the  second  the  Ellama- 


THE  INITIATION  OF  A MATANGI  69 


pot,  and  in  the  third  the  new  Matangi  was  seated. 
A little  earthenware  pot  was  placed  in  each  corner, 
painted  with  saffron  and  red  dots,  representing 
Ellama,  and  filled  with  buttermilk.  Threads 
were  then  tied  to  the  pots,  brought  to  the  roof 
and  back  again,  crosswise,  four  times. 

After  these  preparations  had  been  completed, 
the  Bainurdu  began  to  recite  Ellama  stories, 
accompanying  himself  with  his  instrument.  The 
possession  came  upon  the  woman,  but  she 
could  not  rise  up  and  dance,  she  had  to 
remain  seated  and  contain  it  within  herself.  If 
she  could  not  do  this,  she  was  not  worthy.  The 
strings  tied  across  furnished  the  proof,  for  if  she 
moved  they  would  break,  and  the  buttermilk  in 
the  pots  would  be  spilled.  In  due  time  the 
Bainurdu  said  soothing  words,  and  the  possession 
slowly  disappeared. 

A crowd  of  people  had  stood  by  as  witnesses, 
and  great  was  the  feeling  of  relief  when  the  new 
Matangi  had  stood  the  test  and  proved  that  she 
would  be  able  to  carry  her  office  with  dignity. 
Again  the  old  Matangi  was  called;  this  time  to 
stand  by  and  instruct  her  colleague  in  office. 


70 


ANCIENT  MOTHER-WORSHIP 


First  she  was  decked  like  the  old  Matangi,  with 
new  clothes,  her  face  and  arms  were  painted  with 
saffron,  rice  was  tied  around  her  waist,  and  a 
wreath  of  margosa  leaves  was  hung  around  her 
neck.  As  her  insignia  of  office,  a basket  was 
placed  in  her  left  hand,  a stick  in  her  right  hand, 
and  two  small  plates,  one  containing  yellow  saffron, 
the  other  red  powder,  were  held  by  a woman  who 
was  her  female  attendant.  She  stood  in  the  middle 
of  the  crowd,  took  buttermilk  into  her  mouth, 
passed  it  on  a bunch  of  margosa  leaves,  and 
sprinkled  it  on  all  who  stood  near.  It  was  be- 
lieved that  whoever  was  thus  sprinkled  would  be 
cleansed  from  all  defilement  and  pollution  ; for 
even  the  touch  of  a Matangi  is  thought  to  have 
power.  In  the  night  the  Reddi’s  wife  and  the 
new  Matangi  sat  on  the  goat  together ; again 
the  serpent  was  worshipped,  and  there  was  great 
feasting  on  the  day  following. 

After  this  the  new  Matangi  went  about  with 
her  husband,  performing  the  ceremonies  of  her 
office  in  the  villages  of  the  Taluk.  Her  husband 
was  passive,  for  men  can  never  assume  the  role 
of  a Matangi. 


THE  MATANGI,  HER  ATTENDANT,  AND  THE  BAINUNDU. 

t Page  70. 

The  followers  of  this  Matangi  were  displeased  because  she  allowed  her- 
self to  be  photographed,  yielding  to  persuasion  and  a substantial  present. 


THE  INITIATION  OF  A MATANGI  71 


Such  was  the  story  of  the  initiation  of  a Matangi 
as  told  to  me.  I enquired  for  legends  concerning 
the  Matangi  cult,  and  found  one  which  is  not 
without  additional  information. 

There  lived,  once  upon  a time,  a king  whose 
name  was  Dundagheri  Rajah.  His  wife  was  Jamila 
Devi.  When  the  king  was  holding  court  one 
day,  a beautiful  maiden  appeared  before  him. 
She  was  an  incarnation  of  the  goddess  Parvati, 
the  consort  of  Siva.  The  king  extended  his  right 
hand  to  catch  the  maiden,  but  she  moved  away 
from  him.  He  and  his  people  followed  in  pursuit 
of  her,  but  she  receded,  and  finally  disappeared 
into  an  ant-hill.  The  king  sent  for  diggers,  and 
ordered  them  to  dig  till  they  found  the  girl, 
and  offered  large  rewards.  They  began  to  dig, 
but  soon  found  that  the  ant-hill  was  hard  as 
stone.  The  king  then  sent  for  stone-cutters, 
and  the  queen  offered  them  still  greater  rewards. 
They  too  failed.  Then  the  king  grew  angry, 
took  his  spear,  and  drove  it  into  the  ant-hill. 
The  spear  pierced  the  skull  of  the  maiden,  and 
as  the  king  pulled  out  the  spear,  the  brains  of 
the  girl  began  to  ooze  out  and  blood  began 


72 


ANCIENT  MOTHER-WORSHIP 


to  flow.  The  king  and  all  his  followers,  at  sight 
of  this,  fell  into  a swoon. 

The  maiden  then  came  out  of  the  ant-hill  in 
great  majesty  and  of  divine  proportions.  She 
held  the  heavens  in  her  left  hand  (the  basket 
to-day  represents  this),  in  her  right  hand  she 
held  Adisesha,  the  great  serpent  (the  stick  is 
now  substituted  for  this).  She  held  the  sun  and 
moon  as  plates,  in  one  of  which  she  caught  the 
spilt  blood,  in  the  other  the  scattered  brain. 
Upon  the  foreheads  of  the  people,  that  lay  in  a 
swoon,  she  made  a mark  with  the  brain  and  an- 
other with  the  blood.  Therefore  the  Matangi 
to-day  has  two  plates,  one  with  yellow  saffron, 
the  other  with  red  turmeric,  with  which  she  marks 
the  foreheads  of  people.  After  all  those  who 
lay  in  a swoon  had  been  thus  marked,  they  re- 
covered, and  saw  the  goddess  before  them  in 
the  form  of  a maiden.  The  king  and  queen 
took  her  into  their  house.  She  was  afterwards 
married  to  the  sage  Jamadagni,  and  had  five 
sons. 

To  say  that  the  Matangi  cult  is  a species  of 
Sakti-worship  would  be  correct,  but  it  would  not 


THE  INITIATION  OF  A MATANGI  73 


touch  upon  its  real  significance.  Saktism  is  the 
worship  of  the  female  energy  in  nature,  and  is 
multitudinous  in  its  forms,  though  nearly  all 
have  their  root  in  Parvati,  the  consort  of  Siva. 
It  cannot  be  said  that  it  is  of  simply  Aryan 
origin,  to  be  traced  back  to  the  union  of  Dyaus 
and  Prithivi,  Heaven  and  Earth,  in  the  hymns 
of  the  Rig  Veda.  Nor  can  it  be  said  that  the 
worship  of  the  female  principle  in  nature  is  exclu- 
sively of  Scythian  origin.  It  is  a form  of  worship 
that  constitutes  an  integral  part  of  nature-worship, 
as  it  appears  among  many  of  the  races  of  an- 
tiquity. The  Matangi  cult  has  its  root  far  back  in 
ancient  mother-worship,  in  the  age  of  the  Matriar- 
chate.  Some  of  the  religious  rites  of  that  age  find 
expression  in  the  Saktism  of  to-day. 

I would  point  out  that  in  the  Matangi  cult 
some  of  the  most  ancient  modes  of  worship  of 
the  human  race  converge. 

As  far  back  as  the  records  of  the  race  can 
be  traced,  serpent  worship  is  found  as  a means 
with  which  the  human  intellect  sought  to  pro- 
pitiate the  unknown  powers.  Whether  invariably 
the  serpent  is  so  prominent  a feature  in  Matangi 


74 


ANCIENT  MOTHER-WORSHIP 


worship  as  in  the  case  related  to  me  I doubt ; 
but  the  two  cults  were  evidently  thought  to  blend 
harmoniously.  In  the  legend  of  the  Matangi  the 
maiden  disappears  into  an  ant-hill,  generally  the 
home  of  serpents,  coiled  up  in  the  passages 
which  the  ants  have  burrowed  for  themselves, 
feeding  on  the  inmates.  Moreover,  the  stick  in' 
the  hand  of  the  Matangi  represents  Adisesha, 
the  primeval  serpent,  showing  that  the  two  cults 
are  linked  together. 

Tree  worship  in  ancient  times  went  side  by 
side  with  serpent  worship.  Traces  of  this  also 
are  found  in  the  Matangi  cult.  When  the  power 
of  Ellama  descends  upon  an  unmarried  Madiga 
girl,  the  ceremony  of  marrying  her  to  a tree 
is  sometimes  performed,  leaving  her  free  there- 
after to  do  as  she  pleases.  The  wreath  of  margosa 
leaves  around  the  neck  of  the  Matangi,  and  the 
bunch  of  margosa  leaves  in  her  hand,  with  which 
she  sprinkles  the  bystanders,  may  also  be  vestiges 
of  a cult  that  has  the  same  root  as  the  groves 
of  Baal  and  the  sacred  trees  of  the  Teutons. 

The  rite  of  sacrificing  a goat,  after  having 
dragged  it  three  times  around  the  hooded  serpent, 


THE  INITIATION  OF  A MATANGI  75 


crushed  by  the  weight  of  two  women,  one  the 
representative  of  the  Matangi  cult,  the  other  of 
serpent  worship,  is  very  significant.  The  practice 
of  the  Matangi  to  paint  the  foreheads  of  her 
worshippers  with  saffron  and  red,  explained  as 
being  the  brain  and  the  blood  of  the  Matangi,  is 
equally  significant.  It  points  to  human  sacrifice, 
which  has  been  intimately  associated  with  serpent 
worship.  The  two  existed  side  by  side  in  India 
from  the  earliest  time.  Though  the  higher  cul- 
ture of  the  Aryan  was  opposed  to  the  sacrifice 
of  men,  and  the  mild  doctrines  of  the  Buddhist 
were  equally  antagonistic  to  it,  yet  the  British 
Government,  even  in  our  own  times,  has  had  to 
take  steps  to  prohibit  by  law  the  vestiges  of 
ancient  rites  of  this  kind  that  still  existed 
among  aboriginal  tribes. 

The  Matangi  cult  illustrates  the  exceedingly 
complicated  nature  of  modern  Hinduism.  Only 
the  great  antiquity  of  the  cult  can  explain  the 
fact  that  several  other  distinct  cults  have  found  a 
place  in  it.  The  desire  to  work  out  a scheme 
of  salvation  was  the  motive  power  that  produced 
this  readiness  to  adopt  and  assimilate  other  cults. 


76  ANCIENT  MOTHER- WORSHIP 

Though  the  Matangi  cult  is  non-Aryan  in  char- 
acter, the  Brahmin  has  yet  an  interest  in  it.  He, 
too,  stands  by  to  be  sprinkled  by  the  margosa 
branch  of  the  Matangi,  and  be  cleansed  from 
evil.  And  in  all  the  striving  there  is  the  hope 
that  thus,  perhaps,  the  soul  may  be  saved. 


THE  MATANGI  IN  LEGENDS  AND 
STORIES 


After  gathering  from  the  Madigas  all  they  could 
tell  me  of  the  Matangi  cult,  I turned  to  books  to 
find  corroborative  evidence  of  the  antiquity  of  the 
cult,  to  get  an  explanation  of  its  rites  and  customs. 
I found  that  two  scholars,  Professor  Wilson  and 
Sir  Monier  Williams,  give  the  same  enumeration 
of  Saktis : “ Kali,  Tara,  Shodasi,  Buvaneswari 
Bhairavi,  Chinna  Mastaka,  Dhunavati,  Vagala, 
Matangi,  i.e.  ‘ a woman  of  the  Bhangi  Caste,’  Kama- 
latnika.”  The  name  of  Ellama  is  here  omitted, 
and  the  Matangi  is  given  a place  among  the  ten 
great  Saktis.  This  does  not  coincide  with  the 
information  I obtained  about  the  Matangi.  Per- 
haps these  ten  Saktis  belong  to  Northern  India, 
rather  than  to  Southern  India. 

There  is  another  enumeration  of  Saktis  in  a 
book  which  treats  of  the  gods  of  Southern  India. 
It  is  as  follows  : “ Mariama,  Ellama,  Ankalama, 


77 


73  ANCIENT  MOTHER- WORSHIP 


Bhadrakali,  Pidari,  Chamundi,  Durga,  Puranai, 
Pudkalai.”  Ellama  here  has  a place  among  the 
great  Saktis.  The  Matangi  cannot  be  given  a 
place  among  them  because  she  is  only  the  Pariah 
woman  who  is  at  times  possessed  by  the  spirit  of 
Ellama. 

The  author  who  thus  gave  me  some  slight  cor- 
roborative evidence  was  the  great  Danish  mission- 
ary, Ziegenbalg.  He  wrote  his  book  on  The 
Gods  of  Malabar  in  the  year  1713,  and  sent  it 
to  Germany  for  publication.  He  was  informed 
that  the  project  of  publishing  his  book  could  not 
be  entertained,  that  he  had  been  sent  out  “ to  up- 
root heathenism,  and  not  to  spread  heathenish 
nonsense  in  Europe.”  The  great  missionary  was 
a scholar.  His  book,  not  published  until  1867, 
contains  information  for  which  the  student  seeks 
in  vain  elsewhere. 

While  I failed  to  find  a description  of  the  Ma- 
tangi cult,  I yet  found  traces  of  the  name  in  several 
books,  in  a way  that  served  as  a landmark.  There 
was  a degree  of  satisfaction  in  its  recurrence,  for 
the  surrounding  group  of  circumstances  bore  the 
mark  of  similarity.  Wherever  the  name  Matanga 


THE  MATANGI  IN  LEGENDS 


79 


or  Matangi , whether  with  masculine  or  feminine 
ending,  occurred,  there  was  religious  aspiration, 
and  with  it  the  Chandala  element. 

The  earliest  mention  of  the  name  Matangi  is 
to  be  found  in  the  Mahabharata.  It  is  not  pos- 
sible to  give  an  authentic  date  in  connection  with 
this  Sanscrit  epic.  Portions  of  it  are  of  great 
antiquity,  and  the  tradition  of  the  sage  Matanga 
probably  belongs  to  the  older  parts.  He  was 
one  of  the  limited  number  of  renowned  sages  of 
Indian  antiquity  who  were  of  degraded  origin. 

Matanga  considered  himself  the  son  of  Brahmin 
parents.  One  day,  however,  he  made  the  dis- 
covery of  his  spurious  birth.  He  was  travelling 
in  a car  drawn  by  asses.  They  wTalked  slowly, 
and  in  his  impatience  he  goaded  the  colt.  “ It 
is  a Chandala  who  is  in  the  car;  his  wicked 
disposition  indicates  his  origin,”  said  the  she- 
ass  to  the  colt. 

Matanga  heard  this,  and  immediately  besought 
the  she-ass  to  tell  him  what  she  knew  of  his  origin. 
He  learned  that  his  mother  was  a Brahmin,  but 
that  his  father  was  a Chandala.  Determined  yet 
to  earn  Brahminhood,  Matanga  entered  upon  a 


8o 


ANCIENT  MOTHER-WORSHIP 


course  of  austerities.  Indra,  to  whom  he  appealed, 
refused  his  request,  because  so  high  a position 
cannot  be  obtained  by  one  who  is  born  a Chan- 
dala.  One  hundred  years  of  austerities  passed, 
but  were  of  no  avail.  After  Matanga  had  stood 
on  his  great  toe  for  another  one  hundred  years, 
Indra  relented  to  the  extent  of  giving  him  the 
power  to  change  his  shape  at  will,  and  move  about 
like  a bird.  This  legend  indicates  the  strength  of 
the  Brahminical  hierarchy  to  exclude  all  who  were 
not  of  purely  Brahminical  birth. 

Centuries  pass,  and  again  we  meet  with  a sage, 
Matanga,  mentioned  in  the  Ramayana , the  second 
Indian  epic,  which  is  also  of  great  antiquity. 
When  Rama,  the  hero  of  the  epic,  enters  the 
great  forest  Dandaka,  he  is  told  that  he  will  be- 
hold in  the  forest  the  abode  of  the  great  ascetic, 
Matanga,  who  was  feared  by  all.  “ Even  the 
elephants,  though  they  were  many,  dared  not  cross 
the  threshold  of  his  asylum.”  Matanga,  and  the 
ascetics  with  him,  had  departed  to  heaven  in 
celestial  cars,  leaving  an  “ immortal  mendicant 
woman,  by  name  Savari,”  who  had  been  com- 
manded to  await  the  coming  of  Rama,  because 


THE  MATANGI  IN  LEGENDS 


81 


she  would  then  attain  to  the  abode  of  the 
celestials. 

Rama  comes ; he  speaks  to  the  female  ascetic, 
who  appears  before  him  with  matted  locks, 
clothed  in  rags  and  the  skin  of  an  antelope : “ O 
thou  of  sweet  accents,  hast  thou  succeeded  in  re- 
moving all  hindrances  to  asceticism  ? Hast  thou 
observed  the  commandments  and  attained  to 
mental  felicity  ? ” 

She  approaches  Rama  with  the  words : “Fa- 
voured with  thy  presence,  my  asceticism  hath 
attained  to  its  consummation.” 

She  shows  him  the  spot  known  as  Matanga’s 
wood,  and  the  various  wild  fruits  growing  on  the 
banks  of  Pampa,  which  she  had  collected  for  him. 
He  has  come  to  take  possession  of  them.  Her 
work  is  done,  and  she  announces  her  purpose 
of*  renouncing  her  body  and  approaching  “ those 
pure-souled  ascetics  ” on  whom  she  had  formerly 
waited. 

In  an  excess  of  joy  Rama  exclaims  : “O  gentle 
one,  I have  been  worshipped  by  thee  ! Do  thou 
depart  at  thy  ease  and  pleasure.”  Thus  dismissed 
by  Rama,  she  surrendered  herself  unto  fire,  and 
w.s.S.  6 


82 


ANCIENT  MOTHER- WORSHIP 


repaired  to  that  holy  region  where  her  preceptors 
dwelt. 

A more  tolerant  spirit  by  far  is  shown  in  this 
story,  as  compared  to  the  previous  one.  The 
ascetic,  Matanga,  belonged  to  the  day  when  Aryan 
hermits  adopted  conciliatory  measures  in  the 
colonization  of  Southern  India.  With  his  dis- 
ciples he  formed  a colony,  but  they  do  not  seem 
to  have  dwelt  in  proud  isolation.  They  honoured 
a Pariah  woman  by  leaving  her  in  charge  of 
the  deserted  hermitage  until  Rama  should  come. 
They  taught  her  to  desire  the  heaven  of  Brahmin 
ascetics. 

Again  there  is  a gap  of  centuries,  and  we  find  in 
the  Puranas , which  rank  next  to  the  Ramayana  in 
antiquity,  a legend  which,  though  it  may  not  directly 
refer  to  the  Matangi,  yet  marks  the  change  which 
time  had  wrought.  The  Brahmin  Rishis  had  realized 
that  the  worship  of  the  gods  of  the  Aryans  did 
not  appeal  to  the  mind  of  the  aborigines,  yet  they 
desired  to  control  the  religious  life  of  all.  Thus 
it  came  to  pass  that  Siva,  one  of  the  lesser  gods 
of  the  Aryan  pantheon,  in  the  evolution  of  cen- 
turies, took  upon  himself  the  stern  qualities  which 


THE  MATANGI  IN  LEGENDS  83 

the  Dravidians  revered  in  their  deities.  His 
consort,  Parvati,  became  the  form  in  which  Sakti 
worship  found  expression.  She  is  worshipped 
to-day  in  a multiplicity  of  forms,  not  the  least  of 
which  is  that  of  the  Matangi. 

The  legend,  to  be  found  in  the  Valavisu  Purana , 
is  as  follows  : An  ineffable  mystery  was  once  re- 
vealed by  Parvati,  the  wife  of  Siva,  and  her  son, 
Kartikeya.  By  way  of  punishment,  they  were  to 
be  re-born  in  an  infinite  number  of  mortal  forms. 
But  Parvati  entreated  that  the  severity  of  the 
sentence  might  be  mitigated  to  one  transmigra- 
tion. This  was  granted.  At  this  time  Triamballa, 
King  of  the  Parawas,  and  Varuna  Valli,  his  wife, 
were  engaged  in  special  acts  of  devotion  in  order 
to  obtain  issue.  Parvati  condescended  to  become 
their  daughter  and  assume  the  name  of  Tiryser 
Madente.  Her  son  became  a fish  of  immense  size, 
roaming  about  in  the  sea.  Swimming  south,  he 
attacked  the  fishing  vessels  of  the  Parawas,  and 
threatened  to  destroy  their  trade.  The  king  made 
public  declaration  that  whosoever  would  catch  the 
fish  should  have  his  daughter  as  a wife.  The  god 
Siva  assumed  the  character  of  a Parawa,  caught 


84  ANCIENT  MOTHER- WORSHIP 


the  fish,  and  was  re-united  to  his  consort  This 
legend  is  an  attempt  to  bring  Siva  and  Parvati 
into  very  close  contact  with  the  aborigines.  The 
Para  was  rank  first  among  the  tribes  of  Tamil 
fishermen  of  to-day,  and  were  once  a strong 
people  and  had  kings. 

A more  elaborate  attempt,  on  the  part  of  the 
Brahmins,  to  explain  the  presence  of  this  aboriginal 
cult  by  the  side  of  Aryan  deities  is  found  in  the 
legend  of  Ellama.  Vishnu,  who  is  distinctly  a god 
created  of  Aryan  conceptions,  here  appears  incar- 
nate as  the  son  of  Ellama,  in  the  form  of  Parasu- 
Rama.  Saivism  and  Vaishnavism  thus  converge 
in  the  person  of  Ellama,  for  she  was  the  personifi- 
cation of  Siva’s  wife,  and  the  mother  of  an  incar- 
nation of  Vishnu. 

Ellama  was  the  daughter  of  a Brahmin.  Her 
life  from  her  childhood  was  so  pure  and  holy  that 
a great  Rishi  took  her  to  be  his  wife.  Parasu- 
Rama  and  three  other  sons  were  born  to  her. 
Her  chastity  was  so  great  that  by  means  of  it  she 
was  enabled  to  roll  the  waters  of  the  river  Kaveri 
in  huge  balls  to  the  place  where  her  husband  per- 
formed the  sacrifice,  that  he  might  use  it  One 


THE  MATANGI  IN  LEGENDS  85 


day  she  saw  the  shadow  of  something  in  the  ball 
of  water  which  she  was  rolling,  and  looked  up. 
She  saw  the  Gandharvas,  the  celestial  musicians, 
flying  through  the  air,  and  she  admired  their  beauty 
greatly.  Next  day  the  water  refused  to  be  rolled. 
The  Rishi  asked,  “ Why  can  you  not  roll  the 
water?”  She  replied  : “ Yesterday  I saw  a shadow 
in  the  water,  and,  looking  up,  saw  the  Gandharvas 
flying  through  the  air.  Beyond  this  I know  of  no 
sin.”  The  Rishi  replied:  “Your  chastity  is  lost. 
A chaste  woman  would  not  have  looked  up  and 
admired  the  Gandharvas.” 

He  called  upon  his  sons  to  behead  their  mother, 
but  they  replied,  “ She  is  our  mother  ; how  can 
we  cut  off  her  head  ? ” Parasu-Rama  only  was 
willing  to  do  it,  and  the  father  sent  him  to  find 
his  mother.  She  had  taken  refuge  with  the 
Pariahs,  who  refused  to  deliver  her  to  Parasu- 
Rama.  He,  however,  killed  all  the  Pariahs,  and 
brought  the  head  of  his  mother  to  the  Rishi,  who, 
greatly  pleased,  asked,  “ Son,  what  do  you  desire 
that  I should  do  for  you  ? ” He  said,  “ I desire 
that  you  give  back  to  me  my  mother ! ” The 
Rishi  granted  his  request,  gave  him  the  head 


86 


ANCIENT  MOTHER-WORSHIP 


of  his  mother,  and  he  went  in  search  of  the  body. 
Among  the  dead  bodies  of  the  Pariahs  whom  he 
had  slain  he  could  not  find  the  body  of  his  mother. 
He  therefore  placed  the  head  upon  the  body  of  a 
Pariah  woman,  and  brought  her  back  to  life.  His 
father,  when  he  saw  her,  said,  “ She  is  now  a 
Pariah  woman.”  Both  mother  and  son  were  sent 
away  from  his  presence.  Parasu-Rama  became  a 
mighty  king,  and  Ellama  became  a goddess. 

According  to  Ziegenbalg,  the  pagodas  erected 
to  Ellama  in  the  Malabar  country  contain  eight 
figures  beside  her  own.  One  of  these  is  Matangi, 
the  Pariah  woman,  on  whose  body  the  head  of 
Ellama  was  grafted.  Another  is  Jamadagni,  her 
husband,  who  ordered  that  she  should  be  put  to 
death.  It  was  Jamadagni  whom  the  maiden  mar- 
ried, after  she  rose  out  of  the  ant-hill  as  Matangi 
This  establishes  a coincidence  in  two  legends. 

The  legends  concerning  the  Matangi  have  re- 
ceived their  most  elaborate  touches  in  the  legend 
of  Ellama.  The  next  mention  of  her  I found 
in  books  of  local  history  and  biography,  where 
she  stands  forth  in  bold  outline,  in  striking  con- 
trast to  the  mythical  form  of  legendary  produc- 


THE  MATANGI  IN  LEGENDS  87 

tions.  She  is  now  “ a female  warrior  of  her 
tribe,”  and  takes  part  in  the  capture  of  Kampula 
in  the  Carnatic  by  Mohammed  the  Third  in  1338. 
Many  warriors  from  the  Telugu  country  fought 
under  the  hero  Kumara  Rama,  and  she  was 
among  them. 

The  Matangi  seems  to  have  been  treacherous, 
and  to  have  gone  over  to  the  King  of  Delhi, 
who  was  highly  incensed  at  the  cowardice  of  his 
commanders,  and  put  a large  force  of  his  soldiers 
under  the  command  of  the  Matangi.  Not  only 
did  she  herself  go  over  to  the  enemy,  but  she 
persuaded  a company  of  Telugu  soldiers  to  fight 
on  the  Mohammedan  side.  In  the  early  part  of 
the  conflict  that  ensued,  Kumara  Rama  was 
successful,  and  drove  the  enemy  back.  Not 
until  then  did  he  hear  of  the  treachery  in  his 
camp,  and  speedily  proceeded  to  the  scene  of 
danger,  where  he  encountered  the  Matangi.  He 
seized  her  nose-ring,  shook  it,  and  told  her  that 
he  “ disdained  to  take  the  life  of  a woman.”  His 
bravest  soldiers,  surprised  and  overpowered  by 
numbers,  fell  fast  around  him,  and  he  was  left 
alone.  After  maintaining  the  conflict  for  a long 


88 


ANCIENT  MOTHER-WORSHIP 


time,  and  killing  many  of  his  assailants,  he  him- 
self was  at  last  slain,  and  the  Matangi  cut  off 
his  head  and  carried  it  to  Delhi. 

The  Matangi  here  has  the  power  of  her  office. 
As  Matangi  she  wielded  a powerful  influence  over 
the  Telugu  warriors,  which  led  the  King  of  Delhi 
to  regard  her  as  a desirable  ally.  Kumara 
Rama’s  hesitation  to  kill  her,  in  the  heat  of 
battle,  was  probably  due  to  respect  for  her  office, 
rather  than  for  her  womanhood.  She  was  the 
embodiment  of  a cult  which  all  held  sacred. 

Looking  back  upon  the  recurrence  of  the  name 
Matangi  at  intervals  of  centuries,  far  back  into 
almost  pre-historic  times,  we  find  one  continuous 
thread  of  evidence  that  the  Aryan  invader,  as 
he  confronted  an  aboriginal  cult  of  peculiar 
strength  and  tenacity,  sought  to  find  a place  for 
it,  to  control  it,  and  conquer  it.  The  first  step 
is  indicated  by  the  legend  of  the  sage,  Matanga, 
who  was  refused  the  boon  of  Brahminhood, 
showing  the  strength  of  the  Brahminical  hier- 
archy to  exclude  one  who  was  of  partly  Chan- 
dala  origin.  Next  we  receive  a glimpse  of  the 
more  conciliatory  measures  adopted  by  Aryan 


THE  MATANGI  IN  LEGENDS  89 

hermits  in  the  colonization  of  Southern  India. 
Later  we  have  Siva,  the  god  evolved  partly  of 
Dravidian  ideas,  and  his  wife  Parvati,  taking  upon 
themselves  the  form  that  would  endear  them  to 
some  of  the  lowest  of  the  aboriginal  tribes.  Not 
satisfied  with  this,  not  only  Saivism  is  brought 
in  close  contact  with  the  Matangi  cult,  but 
Vaishnavism  also  finds  a way  to  gain  a hold 
upon  it.  It  might  seem  as  if  the  Brahminical 
hierarchy  had  now  absorbed  this  strange  cult. 
Far  from  it.  The  bloody  ferocity  of  the  “ female 
warrior  Matangi”  differs  from  the  loquacious  curses 
with  which  the  Brahmin  sages  content  themselves. 

The  aboriginal  tribes  have  clung  to  their  cults 
with  a peculiar  tenacity.  In  view  of  the  fact 
that  the  Brahmins  have  interested  themselves  in 
the  Matangi  cult,  it  is  remarkable  that  none  of 
their  religious  conceptions  have  penetrated  into 
it.  The  legends  concerning  it  they  have  suc- 
ceeded in  moulding  according  to  their  ideas. 
The  cult  itself  they  have  not  been  able  to  reach. 
It  is  an  aboriginal  cult. 


THE  FIEND  MAHALAKSHMI 


Short  of  stature,  bent  with  age  and  nearly 
blind,  our  old  gardener  in  Ongole  still  came 
every  day  to  sit  under  the  large  trees  in  the 
heat  of  the  day,  or  to  watch  others  do  the  work 
which  he  had  done  during  many  a year.  His 
favourite  grandson  frequently  led  him  about, 
holding  him  by  the  hand.  At  other  times  he 
found  his  way  through  the  garden  paths  alone, 
leaning  on  his  staff,  seldom  at  a loss  to  know 
where  he  was,  for  every  foot  of  ground  was  known 
to  him,  every  tree  and  shrub  had  been  cared  for 
by  him  in  the  years  that  had  passed. 

His  memory  went  back  to  the  olden  times, 
and  mingled  with  that  which  had  happened  in 
his  own  day  were  the  tales  which  he  had  heard 
his  father  recount.  He  was  distinctively  one  of 
the  oldest  inhabitants  of  Ongole. 

“Tell  me  about  Ongole  when  you  were  a boy, 
gardener,”  I said  one  day. 

90 


MAHALAKSHMI  AND  HER  ATTENDANTS. 


THE  FIEND  MAHALAKSHMI  91 

This  opened  the  flood-gates  of  his  recollections, 
and  the  incident  which  seemed  to  him  of  greatest 
importance  and  interest  was  given  first. 

“ Ammah,  when  I was  a boy,  the  Rajah  of 
Goomsur  was  taken  through  Ongole  by  the 
British” 

“ Why  did  they  do  that  ? ” 

“ He  was  their  prisoner.  There  were  many 
soldiers  who  guarded  him.  And  the  men  of  his 
own  household,  who  were  with  him,  could  do 
nothing.  After  five  days  they  moved  on  to 
Madras.” 

This  Rajah  of  Goomsur  had  Mahalakshmi  as 
his  goddess.  He  had  dedicated  all  his  fortunes 
to  her,  and  sacrificed  to  her  all  that  her  priests 
demanded.  Every  day  she  had  to  have  the 
blood  of  two  buffaloes,  and  much  other  food 
besides.  It  was  said  that  sometimes  she  refused 
to  be  satisfied  with  anything  but  human  sacrifice. 

After  he  had  been  taken  prisoner,  the  Rajah 
could  do  nothing  more  for  Mahalakshmi,  and  she 
waxed  angry.  One  day  she  approached  him,  and 
said  : — 

“You  offer  me  nothing.  What  am  I to  do?” 


92 


ANCIENT  MOTHER-WORSHIP 


The  Rajah  replied  : — 

“ The  English  Government  did  me  this  evil. 
Go  to  them,  spoil  everything  they  have,  bring 
cholera  and  smallpox  to  their  regiments.”  The 
goddess  left  him,  thirsting  for  blood. 

Great  trouble  and  distress  came  upon  Ongole 
three  days  after  the  Rajah  had  passed  by.  Never 
before  had  any  one  in  Ongole  known  what 
cholera  and  smallpox  were,  but  now  they  learned 
and  trembled.  The  wrath  of  Mahalakshmi  was 
very  fierce.  She  slew  all  before  her.  Twelve 
died  on  the  first  day  after  she  had  begun  her 
work.  Many  more  died  during  the  weeks  that 
followed.  No  one  could  count  them  all.  Not  a 
village  in  the  region  round  about  was  spared. 
So  great  was  the  thirst  of  Mahalakshmi  for  blood, 
that  when  a man  fell  sick  he  died  on  the  spot. 
She  let  none  escape. 

Many  were  numb  with  terror.  Others  said : 
“If  Mahalakshmi  must  have  blood,  give  her  the 
blood  of  beasts.  Let  it  flow  in  streams!  Per- 
haps she  will  spare  us  while  she  drinks  it.” 

Hundreds  of  sheep,  buffaloes  without  number, 
were  sacrificed.  Shrines  were  erected  to  Maha- 


THE  FIEND  MAHALAKSHMI 


93 


lakshmi.  Hands  reeking  with  blood  were  raised 
in  supplication  by  those  who  saw  one  after 
another  in  their  households  succumb.  Men  and 
women  in  the  frenzy  of  excitement  danced  the 
wild  dance  of  possession,  while  instruments  were 
played  all  day  long,  and  priests  were  busy  saying 
mantras. 

Gradually  it  became  evident  that  the  thirst 
of  Mahalakshmi  was  quenched.  She  grew  mild 
as  the  years  passed,  and  sometimes  men  who 
seemed  doomed  escaped  her  hands  and  returned 
to  life. 

“ And  do  you  doubt,”  the  old  gardener  asked, 
“ that  these  things  surely  took  place  ? Look 
around  in  Ongole  and  in  all  the  villages,  and 
see  the  Mahalakshmi  shrines.  Not  one  of  them 
was  there  before  the  Rajah  of  Goomsur  passed 
through,  when  I was  a boy.” 

I looked  up  the  matter,  and  I found  that  there 
was  a curious  blending  of  fact  and  superstition 
in  the  story  of  the  old  gardener.  It  is  a fact 
that  a rebellion  took  place  in  the  State  of 
Goomsur,  about  three  hundred  miles  north  of 
Ongole,  in  the  year  1835.  The  Rajah  was  taken 


94 


ANCIENT  MOTHER-WORSHIP 


prisoner,  and  was  brought  to  Madras,  probably 
through  Ongole.  It  is  also  a fact  that  the  first 
epidemic  of  cholera  in  the  Madras  Presidency, 
within  the  memory  of  that  generation,  had  broken 
out  a few  years  before ; so  that  in  the  perspective 
of  later  years  the  two  events  easily  became 
identical. 

It  is  a coincidence  to  be  noticed  that  the 
people  of  Goomsur,  who  are  Khonds  and  are  of 
Dravidian  origin,  have  a goddess  called  Jugah 
Pennu,  who  “ sows  smallpox  upon  mankind  as 
men  sow  seed  upon  the  earth.”  When  a village 
is  threatened  with  this  dread  disease,  it  is  deserted 
by  all  save  a few  persons  who  remain  to  offer 
the  blood  of  buffaloes,  hogs,  and  sheep  to  the 
destroying  power.  Human  sacrifice  was  not  un- 
known among  the  Khonds.  The  character  of 
Jugah  Pennu  is  very  like  that  of  Mahalakshmi, 
even  down  to  the  hint  concerning  human  sacri- 
fice. Perhaps  some  of  those  who  travelled  in 
the  retinue  of  the  Rajah  brought  the  germs  of 
the  disease  to  Ongole.  The  terror  of  the  weeks 
that  followed  gave  to  the  Rajah’s  sojourn  and  the 
outbreak  of  disease  the  relation  of  cause  and  effect 


THE  FIEND  MAHALAKSHMI 


95 


in  the  minds  of  the  people ; and  Mahalakshmi 
thus  became  one  of  the  most  dreaded  characters 
in  the  demon-worship  of  Ongole. 

Numberless  are  the  fiends  worshipped  in  the 
Indian  villages  who  are  thirsting  for  blood,  or 
who  are  busy  night  and  day  maliciously  planning 
to  injure  and  destroy.  If  any  one  falls  sick,  if 
the  f :ops  fail,  if  cattle  die,  or  harm  of  any  kind 
befalls  the  village,  it  is  considered  the  work  of 
some  evil  demon,  whose  vengeance  and  hatred 
must  be  kept  in  check  by  offerings. 

A Brahmin  once  told  me : “ The  god  Vishnu 
stays  in  his  holy  place,  but  Poleramah,  Ankalamah, 
and  a host  of  other  fiends  and  demons  have  their 
eyes  ever  directed  to  this  earth,  and  go  about 
seeking  whom  they  may  destroy.”  Though  of 
Aryan  stock,  he  leaned  decidedly  in  the  direction 
of  Scythian  demonolatry  when  he  tried  to  explain 
to  himself  the  phenomenon  of  positive  evil.  “ The 
one  supreme  god,”  he  said,  “is  too  good  to  do 
harm  to  any  one.  But  the  demons  stay  close 
to  the  earth,  and  to  do  evil  is  their  delight.” 

I have  found  in  my  enquiries  among  the  Ma- 
digas  that  they  continue  to  worship  demons  of 


96  ANCIENT  MOTHER- WORSHIP 


a locality  long  after  the  reason  that  led  to  the 
worship  is  forgotten.  I could  only  conclude  that 
in  generations  past  a man  or  woman  had  died 
under  peculiar  circumstances,  that  the  spirit  was 
thought  to  be  restless  and  wandering  about,  and 
that,  for  some  reason,  a certain  margosa  tree  had 
been  fixed  upon  as  its  home.  So,  in  accordance 
with  ancient  Dravidian  rites,  a stone  was  placed 
under  the  tree,  painted  with  saffron,  adorned 
with  the  usual  red  dots  and  then  worshipped. 
Sometimes  these  local  swamis  are  the  spirits  of 
good  men  and  women,  who  are  revered  as  kind 
and  beneficent  deities.  But  they  too  may  turn 
into  angry  demons  and  refuse  to  defend  men,  if 
they  are  offended  by  a lack  of  devotion  and  by 
the  paucity  of  offerings  from  the  worshipper. 

Once  only  my  oft-repeated  question  as  to  the 
reason  why  some  local  swami  was  so  faithfully 
worshipped  brought  me  a satisfactory  reply.  I 
thus  learned  the  origin  of  a beneficent  village  deity. 

Not  many  generations  past,  for  she  is  still 
remembered,  there  lived  a Sudra  woman,  Chal- 
kamah  by  name.  Her  father-in-law  was  a wealthy 
man.  With  considerable  outlay  of  money  he 


THE  FIEND  MAHALAKSHMI 


97 


was  digging  one  of  those  large  square  wells,  so 
often  seen  in  Southern  India,  which  have  the 
fountain  in  the  centre,  and  the  four  sides  ter- 
raced by  stone  steps,  so  that  those  who  would 
fill  their  pots  with  water  could  easily  descend. 
The  diggers  had  gone  to  considerable  depth,  but 
there  was  no  water.  What  should  be  done? 

There  was  much  talk  and  deliberation  in  the 
village,  for  a well  with  a plentiful  supply  of 
water  is  a matter  of  much  importance  in  an 
Indian  community.  The  general  opinion  was 
that  some  swami,  some  higher  power,  was  with- 
holding the  water.  An  attempt  must  be  made  to 
propitiate  the  swami.  It  was  decided  that  the 
owner  of  the  well  and  his  daughter-in-law, 
Chalkamah,  should  offer  sacrifice.  She  was  a 
young  woman  in  the  full  strength  of  her  prime. 
Her  husband  was  still  living,  and  she  was,  there- 
fore, a woman  who  has  power  with  the  swamis. 

They  took  pots,  rice,  saffron,  incense  and  fire- 
wood, and  descended  to  the  bottom  of  the  ex- 
cavation. There  they  cooked  the  rice,  set  up 
three  stones  in  the  spot  where  the  fountain 
should  appear,  painted  them  with  saffron  and 

7 


W.S.S. 


98  ANCIENT  MOTHER- WORSHIP 


made  the  usual  red  dots  on  the  surface.  They 
laid  the  rice  before  the  stones  as  an  offering, 
burned  the  incense,  and  then  worshipped  the 
three  stones  as  if  they  represented  the  deity 
withholding  the  water. 

The  two  worshippers  came  away.  They  had 
climbed  half-way  out  of  the  well  when  Chal- 
kamah  turned  back.  She  had  forgotten  the  cop- 
per cup  which  she  had  used  in  cooking.  De- 
scending again,  she  stood  at  the  bottom,  and  as 
she  bent  to  pick  up  the  cup,  behold  ! the  water 
rushed  forth  to  meet  her. 

Her  father-in-law,  still  standing  half-way,  called 
to  her,  “ Come  up  quickly ! ” An  inarticulate 
sound  came  back  as  an  answer.  Again  he  called, 
and  again  the  same  sound  rose  up  amid  the  rush 
of  water.  He  dropped  everything  in  his  hands 
and  turned  to  the  rescue  of  Chalkamah.  He  called 
to  her  again,  as  he  began  to  descend.  Now 
there  was  a distinct  answer : “ Don’t  call  me 
again  ! ” Thus  Chalkamah  expired. 

Many  stood  at  the  top  of  the  well,  and  saw  and 
heard  all.  They  said,  “ She  could  have  fled  and 
escaped  if  she  had  wished  ! ” 


THL  FIEND  MAHALAKSHMI 


99 


But  the  water  was  rising.  There  was  great 
abundance  for  the  use  of  the  village.  It  was 
said  of  Chalkamah,  “ She  must  have  been  a holy 
woman  or  the  water  would  not  have  rushed  forth 
to  meet  her ! ” As  a beneficent  matri,  who  was 
supplying  the  village  with  water,  she  was  hence- 
forth worshipped. 

A matri  like  Chalkamah  belongs  to  the  village. 
Similar  worship  as  a household  institution  I found 
among  the  Madigas  under  the  name  Perantalu, 
meaning  “a  good  and  fortunate  woman.”  I was 
told  that  other  castes,  too,  worship  Perantalu. 
In  fact,  I saw  the  significant  yellow  and  red 
markings  on  the  door  of  a Sudra  house. 

When  a woman  in  a Madiga  family  dies  who 
has  been  what  the  Madigas  consider  a virtuous 
woman,  one  who  was  devoted  to  the  swamis,  and 
leaves  behind  her  at  death  a husband,  it  is  be- 
lieved that  she  will  go  where  she  will  have  easy 
access  to  the  gods  and  can  intercede  for  the 
family.  Widowhood  among  the  Madigas  does 
not  mean  the  life  of  privation  that  makes  the 
widowhood  of  caste-women  so  pitiful  a state. 
Yet  the  Madigas  think  a woman  leaves  this 


100  ANCIENT  MOTHER-WORSHIP 


world  under  fortunate  auspices  when  her  hus- 
band is  left  behind  to  mourn  her  death. 

To  facilitate  communion  with  the  departed  one, 
a place  on  the  inner  wall  of  the  house  is  painted 
yellow  with  saffron ; red  dots  are  made  on  the 
yellow  surface,  and  a necklace  with  beads  at- 
tached is  fastened  in  the  middle  of  it.  This 
becomes  the  shrine  of  the  family,  before  which 
they  bow  every  day,  and  especially  when  they 
propose  to  go  on  a journey  or  enter  upon  any 
new  undertaking. 

It  is  possible  that  the  Perantalu  is  a local 
superstition,  for  I have  not  found  it  mentioned 
in  books.  Yet  it  stands  in  a line  with  other  forms 
of  Saktism.  The  spirit  of  a highly-favoured 
female  member  of  the  family  is  credited  with 
mysterious  powers  of  an  occult  character,  with 
a control  of  the  secret  forces  of  nature.  It  is 
the  mother-worship  of  antiquity  in  a form  that 
makes  it  a household  institution. 

But  I would  suggest  that  another  element  is 
present  in  the  Perantalu  as  well  as  other  species 
of  mother-worship  found  among  the  Madigas. 

There  is  a persistent  recurrence  of  the  yellow 


THE  FIEND  MAHALAKSHMI 


IOI 


saffron  and  red  dots  everywhere.  In  the  worship 
of  beneficent  matris,  when  fiends  and  demons  are 
to  be  propitiated,  in  the  Matangi  cult,  everywhere 
the  yellow  and  red  markings  are  a necessary  ad- 
junct. Many  a time  I have  seen  a stone  under  a 
margosa  tree,  with  the  markings  on  the  surface, 
and  frequently  a necklace  of  beads  hung  around  it. 

Is  it  not  possible  that  this  points  to  human 
sacrifice  ? Both  Brahmanism  and  Buddhism  were 
opposed  to  human  sacrifice,  yet  with  great  per- 
tinacity the  spilling  of  human  blood,  in  order  to 
appease  the  gods,  has  endured  among  aboriginal 
tribes,  even  down  to  our  own  times.  The  British 
Government  has  had  to  deal  with  the  vestiges 
of  the  cruel  rites. 

The  Abbe  Dubois,  one  of  the  keenest  ob- 
servers of  Hindu  customs,  wrote  at  the  close  of 
last  century  : “ Old  men  have  told  me  that  this 
horrible  custom  was  still  practised  when  they 
were  young.  I have  visited  several  places  where 
these  scenes  of  carnage  used  to  be  enacted.”  He 
says  there  is  not  a province  in  India  where  the 
inhabitants  do  not  point  out  to  the  travellers 
places  where  their  Rajahs  offered  up  to  their  idols 


102  ANCIENT  MOTHER-WORSHIP 


unfortunate  prisoners  captured  in  war.  This  was 
one  hundred  years  ago. 

In  the  Kali-Purana  the  god  Siva  lays  down 
the  rules  for  blood-offerings.  By  a human  sacri- 
fice, he  says,  his  consort  is  pleased  a thousand 
years.  By  the  sacrifice  of  three  human  beings 
one  hundred  thousand  years.  Kali  and  Durga, 
both  belonging  to  the  ten  great  Saktis,  are  al- 
ways represented  with  the  evidence  of  their  thirst 
for  blood  conspicuous  in  some  way.  Perhaps  a 
necklace  of  human  skulls  adorns  the  neck,  or  the 
tongue  is  stretched  forth  to  indicate  the  thirst  for 
blood.  Alas  ! for  the  gloom  of  such  worship. 

Of  the  tribe  of  the  Matangas  the  poet  Bana- 
bhatta  wrote  about  the  year  606  A.D.,  “ Their  one 
religion  is  offering  human  flesh  to  Durga.”  Per- 
haps there  was  a time  when  the  victims  for 
sacrifice  were  allowed  to  escape,  and  in  their  stead 
a stone  was  painted  with  yellow  saffron  to  resem- 
ble human  flesh,  and  the  red  marks  took  the  place 
of  the  blood  that  did  not  flow.  It  was  hoped  the 
thirsty  gods  would  be  appeased  by  this  substitute, 
especially  if  the  reeking  blood  of  goats  accom- 
panied it. 


SECRET  MEETINGS  AND  MIDNIGHT 
ORGIES 


Saktism  does  not  assume  its  most  revolting 
form  in  the  Matangi  cult,  nor  in  the  worship  of 
matris  and  fiends  and  demons.  The  frenzy  of 
possession,  the  mad  excitement  of  the  dance,  the 
slaughter  of  beasts,  and  the  shouts  of  the  by- 
standers, may  be  sufficiently  hideous  ; but  they 
are  not  an  outrage  upon  human  nature. 

In  the  Chermanishta  sect  there  are  meetings 
that  need  the  cover  of  darkness.  Vague  reports 
only  reach  the  outer  world  of  that  which  is  done 
in  secret. 

Once  a year  the  members  of  the  Chermanishta 
sect  meet  in  the  house  of  one  of  their  number. 
They  may  belong  to  any  other  cult  or  religion, 
and  yet  come  to  this  secret  meeting.  Religious 


103 


104  ANCIENT  MOTHER- WORSHIP 


distinctions  and  caste  distinctions  are  wiped  out 
for  the  time  being.  Strange  to  say,  Brahmin, 
Sudra  and  Madiga  are,  during  that  night,  on  a 
basis  of  equality.  But  the  utmost  secrecy  is 
required  of  all.  In  the  morning  all  resume  their 
own  caste,  and  no  one  dare  divulge  the  know- 
ledge of  the  presence  of  the  others  during  the 
orgies  of  the  night. 

As  midnight  approaches,  the  Guru  enters  the 
house  of  meeting ; the  rest  follow,  one  after 
another.  After  all  are  seated,  the  Guru  goes 
around  with  a vessel  containing  sarai,  and  lets 
each  one  take  a sip.  In  the  other  hand  he  has 
a piece  of  meat,  and  touches  the  tongue  of  each. 
He  himself  finally  eats  and  drinks  of  both.  Then 
nine  kinds  of  meat,  previously  cooked,  are  passed 
around  : fowl,  pigeon,  pig,  goat,  cow,  donkey,  cat, 
dog  and  buffalo.  Each  one  puts  a little  of  each 
on  a plate  made  of  dried  leaves  and  eats  it,  while 
sarai  flows  plentifully. 

While  eating,  all  sing : “ We  have  now  severed 
both  caste  and  family  connection.  We  have  joined 
together  both  ruling  caste  and  servants . We  desire 
to  be  saved  by  the  Guru.  This  is  the  time? 


MEETINGS  AND  MIDNIGHT  ORGIES  105 


The  piece  of  meat,  which  touches  the  tongue 
of  each,  seems  intended  to  wipe  out  every  social 
distinction  between  them.  Later  in  the  night  a 
woman  is  brought  in — generally,  it  seems,  a 
Madiga  woman — and  there  are  orgies  that  form 
a loathsome  representation  of  the  creative  force 
in  nature.  At  last  the  Guru  announces  the  place 
for  the  next  meeting,  and  all  steal  away  silently, 
one  after  another,  as  they  came. 

The  fact  that  the  Madigas  are  admitted  to  the 
rites  which  join  kulapathi  and  dasulathi , “ ruling 
caste  and  servants,”  is  not  without  its  own  sig- 
nificance. Perhaps  the  Brahmins  learned  the 
mysteries  of  the  cult  from  the  aborigines.  The 
members  of  the  sect  claim  that  the  deeds  of  the 
night  are  free  from  lust  and  vice,  because  the 
mind  is  filled  with  thoughts  of  worship.  It  is 
nature-worship  in  the  most  revolting  form,  and 
may  well  be  called  the  most  corrupt  aspect  of 
modern  Hinduism. 

Nowhere  in  books  could  I find  a reference  to 
the  Chermanishta  sect.  I concluded  that  perhaps 
it  was  Sakti  worship  under  a local  name — perhaps 
the  name  of  the  Guru  who  first  taught  its  rites 


io6  ANCIENT  MOTHER- WORSHIP 


in  parts  of  the  Telugu  country.  I thought  it 
would  have  to  be  classified  as  a worship  of  Siva, 
because  Saktism  generally  centres  in  Parvati,  the 
consort  of  Siva,  But  I was  told  repeatedly,  by 
those  who  claimed  that  they  knew,  that  it  was 
part  of  the  Ramanuja  sect. 

An  explanation  was  given  me  which  is  a mix- 
ture of  fact  and  hearsay.  My  informants  knew 
that  there  was  once  a great  teacher,  Ramanuja, 
who  made  disciples  of  all  castes  and  of  both  sexes. 
He  did  not  initiate  his  followers  into  the  mysteries 
of  his  doctrines,  but  wrote  them  in  a book,  which 
he  concealed  from  them.  At  the  time  of  his 
death  no  one  was  with  him,  and  the  book  of  secret 
doctrines  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  Brahmins, 
who  characteristically  kept  it  to  themselves.  But 
his  other  followers,  too,  wanted  to  know  of  the 
teaching  of  their  Guru.  Two  of  his  disciples,  who 
were  women  of  the  caste  of  dancing-women,  and 
were,  therefore,  versed  in  the  art  of  reading  and 
writing,  sought  to  meet  the  emergency  by  writing 
each  a book.  They  claimed  that  these  books 
contained  the  teaching  of  Ramanuja,  imparted 
to  them  on  his  death-bed.  From  one  of  these 


MEETINGS  AND  MIDNIGHT  ORGIES  107 


books  sprang  the  Ramanuja  sect,  from  the  other 
the  Chermanishta  sect. 

This  is  a curious  instance  of  the  way  in  which 
the  common  people  explain  to  themselves  that 
which  is  beyond  their  comprehension.  It  is 
probably  true  that  at  the  death  of  Ramanujacarya, 
who  lived  in  the  twelfth  century,  and  was  the  first 
of  a line  of  Vaishnavite  reformers,  the  Brahmins 
took  possession  of  his  books.  The  abstruse  reason- 
ing which  they  contained  concerning  a triad  of 
principles — the  Supreme  Being,  the  Soul,  and 
Non-Soul — was  not  of  a nature  to  satisfy  the 
wants  of  the  multitude. 

His  followers  corrupted  his  teaching.  The  sect 
was  divided  into  the  northern  and  the  southern 
school.  The  struggle  between  the  two  schools  was 
fierce,  and  was  really  the  controversy  between 
Arminian  and  Calvinistic  doctrine  in  Indian  guise. 
The  northern  school  claimed  that  the  soul  lays 
hold  of  the  Supreme  Being  as  the  young  monkey 
clings  to  its  mother,  of  its  own  free-will.  The 
southern  school  have  “ the  cat-hold  theory.”  They 
argue  that  the  soul  remains  passive  and  helpless 
until  acted  upon  by  the  Supreme  Being,  as  the 


ic8  ANCIENT  MOTHER-WORSHIP 


kitten  remains  passive  until  the  mother-cat  trans- 
ports it  from  place  to  place. 

Not  only  on  the  question  of  free-will  did  the 
Ramanuja  sect  divide,  but  also  on  the  question 
of  the  place  to  be  assigned  to  the  consort  of 
Vishnu.  The  northern  school  regard  her  as  in- 
finite and  uncreated,  like  her  consort,  while  the 
southern  school  maintain  that  she  is  simply  a 
mediator,  not  an  equal  channel  of  salvation.  The 
story  told  me  of  the  books  written  by  the  two 
dancing-women  probably  points  to  this  division 
of  the  Ramanuja  sect. 

There  is  incongruity  in  giving  to  a sect  that 
inculcates  a hideous  form  of  Saktism  a place 
among  the  followers  of  Ramanuja.  The  teachings 
of  Ramanuja  were  moral.  He  forbade  the  use  of 
animal  food  and  intoxicating  drinks.  He  prob- 
ably came  in  contact  with  Christian  missionaries, 
for  his  insistence  on  the  spiritual  equality  of  all 
men  points  to  Christian  principle.  He  demanded 
personal  devotion  to  a personal  god,  and  this  god 
was  Vishnu. 

The  secret  orgies  of  the  Chermanishta  sect 
date  back  thousands  of  years  previous  to  the  time 


MEETINGS  AND  MIDNIGHT  ORGIES  109 


of  Ramanuja.  To  find  for  them  a place  in  the 
Ramanuja  sect  is  simply  an  attempt,  uncon- 
sciously put  forth,  perhaps,  of  finding  in  the  more 
modern  religious  movements  a place  for  an  ancient 
cult. 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  THE 
GURUS 


A Search  for  Truth 
Six  Gurus  in  Succession 
The  Silence  of  Ramaswami 


A SEARCH  FOR  TRUTH 


I knew  Bangarapu  Thatiah  seventeen  years  ago, 
when  he  was  yet  in  his  prime,  honoured  and  loved 
by  all.  I saw  him  again  when  old  age  rested 
heavily  upon  him  and  his  memory  failed  him 
when  he  tried  to  recall  the  happenings  of  yester- 
day. But  when  I asked  him  about  the  far-away 
past,  his  almost  sightless  eyes  seemed  to  peer  into 
the  distance,  and  he  told  me  many  things. 

“ I called  our  Dora  and  he  came,”  he  said  to  me, 
and  then  relapsed  into  silence.  I looked  about  on 
the  mission-houses,  the  school-houses,  and  the 
busy  activity  of  the  mission  compound.  And  I 
remembered  how  this  man,  many  years  ago,  came 
to  this  spot,  his  heart  burning  within  him,  to  see 
whether  the  white  teacher  had  not  come.  He 
found  it  overgrown  with  cactus,  and  Gundla 
Pentiah  living  in  a hut  in  one  corner  of  the  com- 
pound, a faithful  man,  who  told  him  that  the 

“3  8 


W.S.S. 


1 14  CHRISTIANITY  AND  THE  GURUS 


Ongole  Missionary  was  yet  in  Nellore,  but  was 
soon  coming. 

Thatiah’s  plea  was  the  last  link  in  the  chain  of 
circumstances  that  brought  the  Ongole  Missionary 
to  this  place.  He  could  justly  say  before  the 
younger  generation,  when  he  leaned  heavily  on 
the  sturdy  shoulders  of  the  young  men,  “ I called 
our  Dora,  and  he  came.” 

I said,  “ Thatiah,  tell  me  about  the  old  days.” 
He  looked  about  helplessly,  and  one  of  the 
younger  men  said,  “ Grandfather,  the  Dorasani 
wants  to  know  about  the  time  when  the  Dora  first 
came  here.” 

“ When  the  Dora  first  told  me  to  go  and  preach, 
I said,  * How  can  I go  about  alone  all  the  time  ? ’ 
But  he  said, ‘Take  your  wife  with  you  and  you  will 
be  two.’  After  that  Satyamah  and  I always  went 
together.  Sometimes  she  carried  the  bundle, 
sometimes  I put  it  on  my  shoulder.  What  I 
preached,  she  preached ; what  I ate,  she  ate. 
Satyamah  was  always  with  me.” 

“ Did  not  men  persecute  you  in  the  old  days  ? ” 
Thatiah’s  face,  grown  passive  with  age,  brightened 
with  animation,  as  he  assured  me,  “No  one  ever 


A SEARCH  FOR  TRUTH 


ii5 

abused  me,  no  one  persecuted  me  ; men  always 
treated  me  kindly  and  respectfully.” 

“ They  tell  me  that  you  were  much  with  Rajayogi 
Gurus.  Did  you  learn  anything  from  them  ? ” 

“ Did  I learn  anything  from  them  ? They  tol 
me  that  there  is  one  God,  and  that  He  is  Spirit 
that  He  has  created  all  things,  and  pervades  all 
things.  It  was  well  that  they  told  me  this,  and  I 
believed  it.  But  nothing  satisfied  my  soul  till  I 
heard  of  Jesus  Christ.” 

Thatiah  told  me  this,  without  hesitation,  as  one 
of  the  facts  of  his  life.  He  was  too  old  for  medita- 
tion. Thus  I had  the  summary  of  Thatiah’s 
search  for  truth.  He  had  found  a nugget  of  gold 
in  the  Rajayogi  sect,  but  the  pearl  of  great  price 
he  had  found  when  he  heard  of  the  Christ. 

Thatiah  had,  years  before,  written  a sketch  of  his 
life,  at  the  request  of  the  Missionary.  This  was 
supplemented  by  the  story  of  many  a man,  who 
could  not  tell  of  the  old  days  without  bringing  in 
Thatiah  at  decisive  points.  A singularly  pure  and 
holy  life  this  man  led  before  the  eyes  of  thousands 
of  his  people. 

He  was  born  when  his  parents  were  advanced 


n6  CHRISTIANITY  AND  THE  GURUS 


in  years.  The  duty  of  caring  for  them  fell  upon 
him.  It  never  occurred  to  him  that  he  might 
learn  to  read.  There  was  no  one  in  those  days 
who  would  teach  a Madiga  boy  to  read.  He 
learned  of  his  father  to  tan  leather,  and  sew  the 
sandals  which  the  Sudras  ordered. 

In  the  time  of  his  grandfather,  a Guru  of  the 
Ramanuja  sect  had  been  invited  by  the  family 
to  come  with  the  idols  of  Vishnu  and  perform 
sacred  rites  before  them.  This  was  repeated 
on  special  occasions,  and  the  fees  demanded  by 
the  priest  were  paid  out  of  the  scant  earn- 
ings. When  his  father  died,  Thatiah  took  pride 
in  having  the  funeral  ceremonies  performed 
according  to  the  dictates  of  a Guru  of  the 
Ramanuja  sect.  This  was  considered  an  advance, 
both  religiously  and  socially,  upon  the  cults  and 
customs  of  the  ordinary  Madiga. 

Neither  Thatiah  nor  any  other  Madiga  has  ever 
told  me  that  he  had  gained  in  spiritual  truth  by 
joining  the  Ramanuja  sect.  The  Madigas  know 
nothing  of  the  doctrines  of  the  sect,  nor  do  they 
see  any  deeper  meaning  in  the  several  incarnations 
of  Vishnu.  This  utter  lack  of  apprehension  con- 


A SEARCH  FOR  TRUTH 


ii7 


cerning  the  tenets  of  a sect  which  they  had  joined 
shows  that  the  Aryan  cults  do  not  find  congenial 
soil  among  the  aborigines.  With  the  worship  of 
Siva,  in  the  Rajayogi  sect,  it  was  different.  It 
was  from  this  direction  that  a strong  influence 
made  itself  felt  in  Thatiah’s  life. 

A very  old  woman,  bent  with  age,  came  to 
Thatiah’s  neighbourhood  to  visit  her  married 
daughter.  This  old  woman,  Bandikatla  Veeramah, 
was  a disciple  of  the  Yogi  Pothuluri  Veera- 
bramham.  She  must  have  been  a spiritually- 
minded  woman,  and  of  strong  personality.  Thatiah 
and  several  others  soon  sat  at  her  feet  and  learned 
of  her. 

The  Yogi  Veerabramham  was  one  of  the  many 
reformers  who  rise  up  in  India,  influence  thousands 
during  several  generations,  and  are  then  forgotten. 
This  Yogi’s  influence  seems  to  have  been  more 
far-reaching  and  more  pure  than  that  of  many 
another.  He  has  inspired  thousands  with  a hope 
which  in  some  of  its  features  resembles  the 
millennial  hope  in  the  mind  of  the  Christian,  who 
looks  forward  to  a speedy  second  coming  of  the 
Christ.  He  taught  that  God  is  spirit,  and  must  be 


n8  CHRISTIANITY  AND  THE  GURUS 


worshipped  in  spirit.  That  which  is  not  of  the 
spirit  was  denounced  by  him.  “ Those  who  say 
‘ Rama ! Rama ! ’ will  fall  away,”  he  said,  “ because 
it  is  lip-service,  and  not  of  the  spirit.”  In  the 
book  in  which  his  disciples  preserved  much  of  his 
teaching,  he  calls  upon  the  multitude  to  turn  from 
wickedness  and  look  forward  to  a coming  in- 
carnation. This  expectation  of  a re-incarnation  of 
the  Deity  was  the  central  thought  in  his  preaching, 
and  he  has  so  filled  the  minds  of  his  followers 
with  this  hope  that  they  look  for  its  fulfilment  in 
the  immediate  future. 

The  personal  history  of  Veerabramham  is  clothed 
in  much  that  is  legendary.  His  father  was  a 
devotee  of  Siva  ; he  himself,  when  a young  man, 
saw  a vision  in  the  field,  which  invited  him  to  a 
certain  shrine,  where  he  henceforth  often  held 
converse  with  the  Deity.  After  the  manner  of  the 
Yogi  he  entered  his  grave  alive,  and  ordered  to 
have  the  door  closed.  His  chief  disciple,  Siddapa, 
who  had  been  absent,  came  to  the  grave  and  called 
aloud  to  his  master,  for  he  had  not  given  him  the 
final  initiation.  With  an  invisible  hand,  the  words 
which  his  master  had  to  say  to  him  were  written 


A SEARCH  FOR  TRUTH 


119 

on  his  tongue.  He  departed,  and  directed  his 
preaching  mainly  against  caste ; and  prophesied,  in 
the  name  of  his  master  that  in  the  day  when  God 
again  became  incarnate  caste  would  vanish  and 
all  men  would  be  equal. 

This  was  the  teaching  which  Thatiah  received 
from  Bandikatla  Veeramah.  Her  life  was  an 
illustration  of  her  precepts.  People  of  all  castes 
came  and  went  in  her  house,  even  Madigas, 
though  she  belonged  to  the  goldsmith  caste,  and 
was,  therefore,  far  above  them. 

The  woman  in  whose  house  she  and  her  daughter 
were  living  began  to  object  to  the  custom  of  her 
tenants.  She  said,  “ All  these  people  are  coming 
and  going.  They  may  touch  our  cooking  utensils, 
and  thus  spoil  our  caste.  You  can  look  for  another 
house.”  Rather  than  ask  her  followers  of  low 
degree  to  stay  away,  Veeramah  looked  for  another 
house.  Her  heart  was  large,  she  loved  them  all. 

When  she  went  away,  she  talked  most  lovingly 
to  them  : “You  must  be  like  the  children  of  one 
mother,  for  you  are  the  followers  of  one  Guru.  Be 
full  of  faith,  don’t  go  and  sin.  Strive  without 
ceasing  to  earn  salvation.” 


120  CHRISTIANITY  AND  THE  GURUS 


Thatiah  had  received  his  initiation  as  a Rajayogi 
Guru  from  Bandikatla  Veeramah.  For  an  hour 
every  day  he  sat  in  meditation,  his  eyes  closed,  his 
fingers  pressed  over  ears  and  nostrils,  so  that 
objects  of  sense  might  be  completely  shut  out,  and 
the  soul  might  perceive  the  great,  all-pervading 
Divine  Being.  He  was  much  with  the  Rajayogi 
people,  and  seems  to  have  been  looked  upon  as 
a leader  among  them,  because  of  his  religious 
fervour. 

In  the  Kanigiri  Taluk,  where  Thatiah  lived,  the 
soil  was  dry  and  hard,  and  the  Sudras  had  to  dig 
wells  in  their  fields  to  water  the  growing  crops. 
In  large  buckets  they  brought  the  water  to  the 
surface,  and  these  buckets  were  made  of  leather, 
and  had  to  be  made  and  kept  in  repair  by  the 
Madigas.  Thatiah  heard  that  much  cattle  was 
dying  in  the  Godavery  district,  stung  by  a 
poisonous  fly,  and  that,  therefore,  hides  were  cheap. 
He  decided,  with  a kinsman,  to  go  north  on  trade. 

It  was  during  his  stay  in  that  northern  district 
that  Thatiah  first  heard  of  the  Christ.  A Madiga, 
who  was  also  bent  on  trade,  told  him  of  a Dora 
who  was  preaching  this  new  religion.  They  de- 


A SEARCH  FOR  TRUTH 


1 21 


cided  to  go  and  see  him,  and  were  kindly  received. 
They  went  again.  Thatiah  said,  “ This  religion  is 
true.  My  soul  is  now  satisfied.”  The  Padre  said, 
“ You  are  going  back  to  your  home.  Inquire 
from  time  to  time,  for  soon  a white  teacher  is 
coming  to  Ongole.  Go  to  him ; he  will  tell  you 
more  about  this  religion.” 

When  Thatiah  turned  toward  home,  he  was 
determined  to  break  away  from  the  old  life  and 
begin  the  new.  He  refused  to  bow  before  the 
village  idols.  He  told  the  Rajayogi  people  that 
he  was  no  longer  one  of  them,  that  he  had  found 
something  far  better  than  they  had  to  give.  When 
they  asked  him  which  swami  he  was  going  to 
worship,  he  told  them  that  he  bowed  to  one,  Jesus 
Christ,  the  Son  of  God,  who  had  died  for  men. 
A Dora  had  told  him,  and  another  Dora  was  soon 
coming  who  would  tell  him  more. 

So  bold  a declaration  from  a man  of  the  in- 
fluence of  Thatiah  was  not  to  be  accepted  with 
indifference.  Some  of  the  Madigas,  who  feared 
the  demons  and  fiends  of  the  village,  predicted 
that  their  vengeance  would  smite  them  all,  because 
of  Thatiah’s  daring  words.  Nor  were  the  Sudras 


122  CHRISTIANITY  AND  THE  GURUS 


pleased  with  his  determination.  His  friends 
reasoned  with  him,  “You  are  believing  a God  not 
of  this  country,  but  a new  God.  You  are  bringing 
new  standards  of  living  among  us.  Our  old-time 
gods,  Poleramah  and  Ankalamah,  you  no  longer 
come  to  worship  ; you  stay  away  when  we  beat 
the  drums  on  their  festal  days.  Don’t  you  know 
that  they  will  turn  from  us  and  curse  us  on  your 
account  ? ” 

Thatiah  was  not  a man  to  be  abused.  No  one 
dared  to  insult  him  or  ill-treat  him.  All  the  more 
keenly  he  felt  the  isolation  when  all  withdrew  from 
him.  Those  who  had  heretofore  looked  up  to 
him  as  a spiritual  leader  now  passed  him  by. 
Work  that  had  been  promised  him  by  the  Sudras 
was  quietly  withdrawn  ; the  pay  for  work  which 
he  had  done  was  not  forthcoming. 

But  the  grief  that  was  deepest  in  all  his  sore 
trial  came  through  the  desertion  of  his  wife  Sat- 
yamah.  She  did  not  stand  by  him.  Perhaps  she 
was  not  greatly  to  blame  ; for  she  had  not  been 
with  Thatiah  when  he  opened  his  heart  to  the 
religion  of  Jesus  Christ.  He  had  told  her  all 
when  he  returned,  but  at  the  same  time  she  saw 


A SEARCH  FOR  TRUTH 


123 


him  opposed  on  every  hand.  The  change  in  him 
seemed  like  a wall  between  them  ; she  felt  that 
she  was  losing  her  husband,  and  when  relatives 
and  friends,  who  knew  that  Thatiah  held  her  dear, 
told  her  that  she  must  save  him  by  sternly  op- 
posing him,  she  lent  a willing  ear. 

Her  former  care  for  his  comforts  was  turned 
to  neglect.  His  food  was  often  late  or  unsavoury, 
and  sometimes  he  had  to  go  hungry.  When  he 
wanted  to  drink  there  was  no  water.  His  re- 
monstrances were  met  by  reproaches  from  her. 
Finally  he  said  to  her : “ By  thus  plunging  me 
into  all  kinds  of  trouble,  you  cannot  keep  me 
here.  I shall  join  the  people  of  the  Christian  sect 
as  soon  as  I can  find  them,  and  I shall  eat  with 
them.”  The  strife  was  ended.  When  referring  to 
this  circumstance  in  later  life,  Thatiah  said  simply, 
“ God  in  His  great  mercy  changed  her  mind.” 

In  all  the  forsaken  condition  of  those  days, 
Thatiah  never  forgot  that  a missionary  was  coming 
to  Ongole.  Could  it  be  that  he  had  already 
come  ? Satyamah  agreed  with  him  that  it  might 
be  well  to  go  and  see. 

Tired  and  footsore  Thatiah  came  to  the  com- 


124  CHRISTIANITY  AND  THE  GURUS 


pound  in  Ongole,  which  was  said  to  belong  to 
the  Nellore  Missionary.  In  the  midst  of  it  was 
a little  bungalow,  but  no  white  teacher  living  in  it 
As  Thatiah  went  about  the  compound,  he  must 
have  looked  like  a man  who  wanted  something, 
for  Gundla  Pentiah  saw  him,  and  came  out  of 
his  hut  toward  him,  and  asked,  “ Why  did  you 
come  here  ? ” 

“ I have  come  to  look  for  the  white  teacher. 
Why  is  he  not  here  ? ” 

Pentiah  was  a Christian  from  Nellore,  sent  to 
Ongole  to  watch  the  compound  and  await  the 
coming  of  the  Missionary.  He  took  Thatiah 
into  his  hut,  and  they  talked  it  over.  Pentiah 
grasped  the  situation ; he  sympathized  with 
Thatiah,  and  he  knew  that  there  would  be  joy 
in  the  mission  house  at  Nellore  should  a mes- 
sage be  received  that  there  was  a man  in  On- 
gole, that  spot  of  many  prayers,  who  was  hunger- 
ing and  thirsting  after  righteousness. 

Pentiah  knew  of  a way  to  do.  He  said,  “ Come 
with  me  to  the  house  by  the  hillside,  to  a lady 
who  is  a friend  of  the  Nellore  Missionary.  She 
will  know  what  to  do.”  They  went,  made  a 


A SEARCH  FOR  TRUTH 


125 


respectful  salaam,  and  Pentiah,  as  spokesman 
said:  “Ammah,  this  man,  Thatiah,  as  he  went 
north  on  trade,  saw  a missionary  who  told  him 
that  a white  teacher  would  come  to  Ongole.  He 
believes  in  Christ  as  God,  and  has  come  to  see 
this  teacher.  As  he  does  not  find  him  here,  he 
is  very  sad,  and  wants  to  know  the  reason  of 
the  delay.  We  have,  therefore,  come  to  make 
his  request  known  to  you.” 

The  lady  understood.  She  said  to  Thatiah : 
“ I shall  write  to  the  Nellore  Missionary.  Be 

ready  to  come  at  any  time  when  I send  for 
you.” 

Not  many  days  had  passed  when  a cooley 
arrived  in  Thatiah’s  village,  asking  him  to  come 
to  Ongole,  for  the  Missionary  had  come.  With 
his  wife,  Satyamah,  he  hastened  on  his  way,  barely 
taking  needed  rest  as  they  walked  the  fifty  miles. 
The  joy  when  he  saw  the  Nellore  Missionary, 
and  with  him  a younger  man,  who  was  soon  to 
become  the  Ongole  Missionary,  is  described  by 
Thatiah  as  unspeakable.  The  older  of  the  two 
men  had  been  stoned  in  the  bazaar  of  Ongole 
in  the  years  gone  by.  But  now,  in  the  spot  where 


126  CHRISTIANITY  AND  THE  GURUS 


his  message  had  been  spurned,  he  had  a man 
before  him  who  could  not  hear  enough.  A holy 
joy  shone  in  the  face  of  the  one  man ; a yearning 
desire  to  hear  more  was  in  the  face  of  the  other 
as  he  sat  hour  after  hour  quenching  his  thirst. 

Outcasts  from  their  own  community,  Thatiah 
and  his  wife  had  made  their  way  to  Ongole. 
Received  into  the  religious  fellowship  of  the 
race  that  rules  over  India,  they  returned  home. 
They  could  not  have  had  more  than  a very  dim 
conception  of  the  fact  that  they  were  now  counted 
among  the  hosts  of  men  and  women  who  repre- 
sent the  salt  of  the  earth,  yet  they  knew  that 
their  days  of  isolation  were  over.  With  a bundle 
of  tracts  and  books  on  their  shoulders,  as  many 
as  they  could  carry,  with  the  words  of  benediction 
from  their  white  teachers  ringing  in  their  ears, 
and  a new  light  in  their  countenances,  they  re- 
turned to  their  own  village. 

And  now  that  ceaseless  activity  began  that 
bore  such  abundant  fruit.  With  untiring  devotion 
Thatiah  journeyed  from  village  to  village,  his 
wife  Satyamah  always  with  him.  The  women 
loved  Satyamah,  and  would  gather  about  her 


A SEARCH  FOR  TRUTH 


127 


and  ask  her  whether  she  was  not  tired  and  thirsty 
after  her  journey,  and  take  her  away  to  refresh 
her.  Late  in  life  a mild  insanity  rendered  her 
helpless.  With  a display  of  the  same  faithfulness 
which  she  had  shown  in  accompanying  her  hus- 
band during  twenty  years,  he  now  cared  for  her 
with  a gentleness  which  called  forth  comment  in 
the  Madiga  community.  When  her  mind  wan- 
dered, he  took  her  by  the  hand,  bade  her  sit 
down,  and  gave  her  to  eat 

Thatiah  stood  like  a granite  pillar  in  the  early 
days  of  the  mission.  He  was  a leader  among 
his  people,  when  the  Madiga  community  was 
astir  in  discarding  the  old  beliefs  and  accept- 
ing the  new.  He  carried  himself  like  a man  of 
experience,  of  authority,  in  his  humble  sphere, 
to  whose  opinions  deference  should  be  paid.  His 
bold  features,  measured  gait,  and  a certain  innate 
dignity,  blended  with  a childlike  humility,  won 
for  him  the  respect  of  all  whom  he  addressed. 

In  his  preaching  he  was  not  like  other  men, 
who  had  not  pondered  Rajayogi  problems.  He 
was  wont  to  begin  his  discourses  with  some  of 
the  peculiar  combinations  of  the  Shastris.  He 


128  CHRISTIANITY  AND  THE  GURUS 


would  say,  “ The  alphabet  has  five  lines  each 
way,  thus  also  the  body  is  composed  of  five 
elements.  There  is  another  five  : two  to  hear, 
two  to  see,  one  to  speak.  But  there  is  yet  another 
five : the  five  wounds  of  Christ.”  By  this  time 
the  interest  of  his  hearers  was  aroused  ; it  was 
a mode  of  proceeding  congenial  to  the  Hindu 
mind.  In  later  years,  when  men  trained  in  the 
Theological  Seminary  made  their  influence  felt, 
critics  arose,  who  said  Thatiah  might  at  last 
wheel  into  line.  It  was  a species  of  the  old 
strife  between  philosophy  and  theology.  But 
Thatiah  held  his  own.  Hundreds  believed  in 
the  Christ  through  his  preaching.  Spiritually- 
minded  to  an  eminent  degree,  there  was  power 
in  his  words  and  his  example. 

In  his  old  age  Thatiah  journeyed  to  Ongole 
once  more.  Slowly  they  brought  him  to  his 
accustomed  place  on  the  platform  of  the  chapel 
on  Sunday  morning.  The  Missionary  stopped  in 
his  sermon  to  put  him  in  his  own  chair.  He 
saw  the  look  of  wonder  on  the  faces  of  some  of 
the  younger  generation,  who  knew  little  of  the 
old  days  and  its  leaders.  His  heart  was  very 


A SEARCH  FOR  TRUTH  129 

tender  toward  the  man  who  had  never  moved 
an  inch  from  his  God-appointed  task,  who  had 
stood  by  his  side  in  the  days  of  small  begin- 
nings, in  the  days  of  calamity  and  of  overwhelm- 
ing responsibility. 

He  turned  to  the  hundreds  of  listeners  before 
him  : “ Do  you  want  to  know  who  this  man  is  ? 
I will  tell  you.  When  you  get  to  heaven — and 
I hope  you  will  all  get  there — you  will  see  some 
one  who  looks  radiant  with  light,  far  above  you. 
You  will  almost  need  a telescope  to  see  him 
distinctly,  the  distance  between  you  and  him 
will  be  so  great.  And  you  will  ask  some  one, 
‘ Who  is  that  man  clothed  in  exceeding  bright- 
ness ? * Then  you  will  be  told,  ‘ That  man  is 
Bangarapu  Thatiah  from  the  Telugu  country.’ 
And  you  will  strain  your  eyes  to  behold  him.” 

There  was  a look  of  reverence  on  many  a 
face  as  the  Missionary  proceeded  with  his  sermon. 
A year  later  Thatiah’s  spirit  took  its  flight. 


W.S.S. 


9 


SIX  GURUS  IN  SUCCESSION 


In  the  language  of  Western  civilization  Pullikuri 
Lukshmiah  would  have  been  called  “ a fast  young 
man.”  He  decked  himself  with  earrings,  finger- 
rings,  bangles,  belts,  and  various  jewels,  all  of  them 
conspicuous  for  glitter — not  for  their  value.  Red 
turbans  and  bright-coloured  jackets  lay  in  the 
box  ready  for  use.  He  frequented  places  where 
there  was  dancing,  singing,  and  festivity  of  every 
kind.  Sin  and  lust  grew  apace,  until  a sense  of 
disgust  with  the  whole  situation  began  to  creep 
into  his  soul.  He  was  weary  of  it  all,  and  one 
day,  he  did  not  know  from  whence,  the  thought 
came : What  if  I should  die  ? 

At  this  juncture  one  of  the  wandering  disciples 
of  the  Yogi  Veerabramham  came  into  the  village 
and  attracted  Lukshmiah’s  attention.  All  his 
earnings  were  now  spent  on  paying  fees  and 


SIX  GURUS  IN  SUCCESSION  131 


giving  gifts  to  this  wandering  Guru.  He  was 
bent  on  finding  out  something  that  might  show 
him  a way  to  salvation  ; he  desired  to  secure  a 
blissful  state  of  the  soul  after  death.  But  the 
days  passed  and  he  heard  nothing  definite,  and 
one  morning  the  Guru  had  taken  his  staff  and 
wandered  to  the  next  place.  But  soon  another 
came.  Lukshmiah  hovered  around  him.  He  did 
his  share  in  giving  the  Guru  to  eat  bountifully. 
He  saw  him  partake  of  the  intoxicating  sarai 
freely,  and  then  roll  into  a corner  to  sleep  off  the 
effects.  After  a few  months  he  too  went  his  way, 
and  Lukshmiah  found  that  he  was  none  the  wiser 
in  knowledge. 

Six  Gurus  were  thus  supported  by  Lukshmiah, 
wholly  or  in  part,  some  for  weeks,  some  for 
months.  The  rumour  had  spread  in  the  Madiga 
community  that  he  had  lost  interest  in  fine  clothes 
and  jewels,  and  was  sitting  at  the  feet  of  Rajayogi 
Gurus.  Soon  one  after  another  of  those  who 
could  claim  some  degree  of  kinship  to  him  came 
to  take  advantage  of  this  circumstance.  They 
were  his  guests  while  they  inquired  of  him  con- 
cerning the  hymns  and  mantras  which  he  had 


132  CHRISTIANITY  AND  THE  GURUS 


heard,  and  the  initiation  through  which  he  had 
passed.  They  were  introduced  to  the  Guru  who 
happened  to  hold  sway  for  the  time  being,  and 
there  was  much  inquiry  and  interest  among  them. 
Some  of  the  friends  came  again  and  again. 
Bangarapu  Thatiah,  too,  was  sometimes  among 
them,  especially  after  Bandikatla  Veeramah  had 
gone  away.  A sense  of  cohesion  was  established 
among  these  men  which  lasted  through  many  a 
year,  for  almost  every  member  of  this  group 
became  a strong  force  in  Christian  propaganda 
in  the  years  that  followed. 

An  honest  search  for  truth  is  never  wholly  in 
vain.  Lukshmiah  and  his  friends  had  risen  above 
the  superstitions  of  the  ordinary  Madiga.  They 
wanted  something  better,  which  shows  that  they 
had  outgrown  the  beliefs  of  their  childhood.  Each 
individually  tried  what  the  abstractions  of  the 
Yogi  could  do  to  still  the  hunger  of  the  soul. 
Friendship  and  a common  interest  had  led  them 
to  meet  and  find  out  what  the  result  on  each 
might  be.  Each  in  his  way  had  grown  dis- 
heartened. 

One  after  another  of  the  friends  went  north  to 


SIX  GURUS  IN  SUCCESSION  133 

trade  in  hides.  Lukshmiah  remained  behind  with 
the  Guru  Balli  Somiah,  who  had  been  his  in- 
structor for  two  years.  He  lived  in  the  village 
proper,  with  the  Sudras,  but  his  chief  supporter 
was  Lukshmiah.  This  meant  a constant  drain 
upon  his  resources.  He  was  already  deeply  in 
debt.  The  Komati  who  had  lent  him  money  at 
different  times  demanded  the  interest,  and  it 
was  compound  interest.  The  hospitality  freely 
offered  to  his  friends  and  co-searchers  in  truth 
had  cost  him  far  beyond  his  means.  They  were 
gone,  and  there  was  a rumour  that  they  were 
again  banded  together  in  the  north,  and  that  now 
they  were  investigating  a religion  which  had  come 
from  the  land  of  the  English. 

Lukshmiah  decided  to  go  north,  and  hoped  that 
by  the  lucrative  trade  in  hides  he  might  cancel 
a part  of  his  debt.  But  what  should  he  do  with 
the  Guru  Somiah,  who  showed  no  intention  of 
leaving?  It  might  prove  dangerous  to  tell  him 
that  he  could  no  longer  support  him,  or  to  simply 
go  away,  leaving  him  in  the  lurch ; for  could  he 
not  pronounce  a curse  over  him?  But  the  pre- 
sence and  the  sway  of  the  Guru  Somiah  grew 


134  CHRISTIANITY  AND  THE  GURUS 


daily  more  irksome,  till  finally  a way  appeared 
to  get  rid  of  him.  Lukshmiah  knew  that  the 
Guru  had  a brother  living  in  that  northern  dis- 
trict He  said  to  him:  “Your  disciples  are  all 
in  the  north,  earning  much  money.  I must  go 
too;  for  my  debts  are  very  heavy.  If  you  will 
come  with  me,  you  will  find  support.”  Thus  the 
journey  was  undertaken. 

Disappointment  awaited  the  Guru  Somiah  when 
he  reached  the  little  settlement  of  his  former  fol- 
lowers. They  wanted  him  no  more.  For  the 
sake  of  old  relationship  they  gave  him  food,  but 
they  omitted  the  sarai.  He  complained  bitterly 
because  the  customary  beverage  was  withheld. 
The  friends  talked  it  over  and  agreed  to  help 
Lukshmiah  to  get  rid  of  his  burden.  They  put 
together  ten  rupees  and  sent  the  Guru  to  his 
brother.  Bangarapu  Thatiah  alone  stood  aloof, 
and  said : “ I shall  give  nothing.  Send  him 
away  empty-handed  as  he  came.”  But  Pullikuri 
Lukshmiah  rejoiced  ; for  the  presence  of  the  Guru 
had  hindered  him  greatly  in  making  any  progress 
in  finding  out  what  this  new  religion  was. 

To  Lukshmiah,  in  the  years  that  followed,  the 


SIX  GURUS  IN  SUCCESSION  135 

mere  mention  of  his  former  Gurus  seemed  like  a 
breath  of  poison.  It  was  the  worthless  character 
of  the  men  that  had  obliterated  anything  of  truth 
which  might  have  lain  hidden  in  their  teaching. 
He  says  of  those  days  : “ I took  hold  of  the  feet 
of  the  disciples  of  Pothuluri  Veerabramham  and 
hoped  to  get  salvation  through  them,  but  it  was 
all  in  vain.  What  is  the  use  of  trusting  in  a 
bundle  of  wind  ? I thought  I was  doing  pious 
deeds  when  I drank  sarai  with  those  Pothuluri 
people,  but  there  was  not  the  smell  even  of  piety 
about  me.  However  much  husk  you  eat  will 
hunger  go  ? ” 

He  had  taken  the  lead  among  the  friends  in 
trying  to  get  salvation  in  the  Rajayogi  sect.  It 
had  all  come  to  nothing.  He  had  wasted  his 
substance  on  Gurus.  In  the  investigations  con- 
cerning the  new  religion  he  found  the  others  in 
advance,  and  he  must  follow.  One  after  another 
of  the  little  colony  of  Madiga  traders  up  in  the 
Godavery  district  started  on  his  homeward  jour- 
ney. He  and  his  kinsman,  Ragaviah,  remained 
behind,  intent  on  speculations  that  would  bring 
financial  gain. 


136  CHRISTIANITY  AND  THE  GURUS 


Rumours  had  been  brought  to  them  that  a 
missionary  had  come  to  Ongole,  that  everybody 
was  talking  about  the  new  religion,  and  that  some 
had  said  they  would  join  this  Christian  sect. 
They  longed  for  certain  news,  and  were  glad 
indeed  when  one  day  a friend  and  neighbour  came 
from  the  old  home  on  business,  and  visited  them 
to  tell  them  what  had  happened.  The  Ongole 
Missionary  had  come  to  Tallakondapaud  and 
baptized  twenty-eight,  among  them  Lukshmiah’s 
brother  and  his  son,  Ragaviah’s  son,  and  others 
of  their  friends  and  relatives. 

After  the  visitor  had  left,  the  two  men  sat  down 
together,  sad  at  heart ; they  could  hardly  keep 
back  the  tears.  Lukshmiah  said  : “ The  brother 
born  after  me  and  my  own  son  are  on  the  way 
to  heaven  before  me.  I cannot  stay  here  longer.” 
The  next  day  they  proceeded  to  hire  sixteen 
bandies,  to  load  one  hundred  hides  on  each,  and 
to  start  for  home.  Eight  bandy-loads  were  sold 
on  the  way,  and  with  the  remaining  eight  they 
arrived  at  home.  Their  sons,  they  found,  were  in 
Ongole  in  school,  and  they  were  glad  that  that 
which  had  been  denied  to  them  was  being  granted 


SIX  GURUS  IN  SUCCESSION  137 


to  their  children.  The  Missionary  had  been  in- 
formed of  their  return  home,  and  a preacher  was 
sent  to  tell  them  much  about  the  religion  of 
Christ  that  was  new  to  them. 

Lukshmiah  was  heavily  in  debt  when  he  bade 
farewell  to  the  last  of  the  six  Gurus  of  the 
Rajayogi  sect  on  whom  he  had  spent  his  sub- 
stance. His  former  associates  in  the  search  for 
truth  had  become  preachers,  and  were  enduring 
the  toil  and  enjoying  the  honours  of  their  posi- 
tion. Lukshmiah  held  aloof.  When  questioned, 
he  pointed  to  his  debt.  The  fact  was  that  the 
debt  was  an  excuse,  for  as  the  years  passed  all 
was  paid,  with  the  exception,  perhaps,  of  some  of 
the  compound  interest.  Lukshmiah  was  a man 
who  preferred  to  be  his  own  master.  He  did  not 
want  to  become  a link  in  the  chain  of  organized 
preachers’  work,  but  wanted  to  go  about  on  his 
trade,  make  money,  preach  when  and  where  he 
liked,  and  be  answerable  to  no  one. 

Six  years  thus  passed.  The  Missionary  asked 
him,  whenever  he  came  to  Ongole  to  the  monthly 
meeting,  whether  the  time  had  not  come  for  him 
to  cease  going  about  on  trade  and  to  stay  and  do 


138  CHRISTIANITY  AND  THE  GURUS 


God’s  work  in  earnest.  He  always  replied  he 
would  come,  but  never  came.  Finally  the  scales 
were  turned.  It  was  a word  from  the  Missionary 
that  compelled  him.  Lukshmiah’s  son  was  leaving 
school  and  returning  home  for  vacation.  The 
Missionary  told  the  young  man  to  say  to  his 
father  that  the  Dora  sent  salaams  to  him.  He 
added  : “ When  I call  your  father  to  work,  he 
does  not  come ; he  runs  about  the  country  like  a 
masterless  dog.”  This  word  travelled  over  the 
country.  Lukshmiah  laughed  at  the  time,  and 
laughs  to-day  as  he  tells  the  story.  The  preachers 
all  laughed  ; for  they  saw  that  Lukshmiah’s  un- 
determined position  was  well  characterized  by  the 
Dora’s  words.  But  Lukshmiah’s  son  said,  “You 
must  go  ” ; and  the  father,  still  laughing,  agreed 
that  he  must,  but  not  just  at  present.  What 
pleased  Lukshmiah  was  that  he  had  measured 
his  strength  with  that  of  the  Missionary,  and  in 
honest  combat  had  been  outdone.  He  was  strong 
in  holding  aloof,  but  the  Missionary  was  stronger 
n wheeling  him  right  about  and  making  him 
face  his  real  position. 

Soon  after  this  the  Missionary  made  an  exten- 


SIX  GURUS  IN  SUCCESSION  139 


sive  tour  through  the  Kanigiri  Taluk.  He  saw 
that  Lukshmiah,  who  joined  the  other  preachers 
in  accompanying  him,  was  in  fact  the  spiritual 
leader  and  pastor  of  a number  of  Christians  in 
all  the  region  round  about  his  own  village.  Before 
they  separated  he  had  a talk  with  Lukshmiah  and 
his  wife.  He  said,  “ What  would  you  like  to  do, 
Lukshmiah  ? ” He  replied,  “ I would  like  to 
engage  in  the  Lord’s  service,  but  have  a debt.” 
The  Missionary  knew  that  this  was  all  by  way  of 
excuse.  He  took  a piece  of  paper  that  was  lying 
on  the  table,  tore  it  into  small  shreds,  threw  the 
handful  of  them  over  Lukshmiah,  so  that  they 
flew  to  every  corner  of  the  tent,  and  said,  “ That 
is  how  your  debt  is  gone.”  He  gave  him  a 
friendly  tap  on  the  shoulder  and  sent  him  home. 

On  his  way  to  his  own  village,  Lukshmiah  was 
stung  in  the  face  by  a poisonous  insect.  Soon 
there  was  a painful  swelling,  and  people  said, 
“ He  will  surely  die  ; a Komati  was  thus  stung 
and  died.”  Lukshmiah  was  very  anxious  about 
this,  and  on  the  second  day  took  the  Bible  to  see 
whether  he  could  not  find  something  to  comfort 
him  at  the  prospect  of  a speedy  death.  He  hap- 


140  CHRISTIANITY  AND  THE  GURUS 


pened  to  turn  to  the  chapters  on  the  prophet 
Jonah’s  experience,  and  thought  to  himself  that 
he  too  had  fallen  into  trouble  for  refusing  to 
preach  as  he  was  sent.  He  dictated  a letter  to 
the  Dora : “ I am  coming,  and  will  go  to  work.” 
Two  days  later  the  swelling  disappeared.  He 
arose,  visited  a number  of  villages,  preaching 
everywhere,  and  arrived  in  Ongole  at  the  time 
of  the  monthly  meeting. 

The  Dora  saw  him  among  the  other  preachers 
and  smiled  knowingly.  “ Have  you  come,  Luksh- 
miah  ? ” 


“ I have  come.” 


THE  SILENCE  OF  RAMASWAMI 


As  the  Madigas  of  Yerrapallem  came  home 
from  the  fields  at  noon  one  day,  they  noticed 
some  one  sitting  at  a little  distance  from  the  vil- 
lage, as  if  taking  rest  from  a journey.  They 
said  among  themselves  : " Who  is  this  ? Let  us 
enquire  his  errand.”  One  of  them  called  the 
stranger  to  come  under  the  large  trees  near  their 
houses. 

As  he  approached  the  group  of  men,  he  said  : 
“ My  name  is  Bandaru  Pulliah.  I have  come 
from  Ongole,  and  have  a way  of  salvation  to 
make  known  to  you.  Will  you  hear  it?”  It 
was  the  noon  hour,  and  the  shade  of  the  trees 
was  pleasant.  Why  should  they  not  hear  some- 
thing that  was  new  and  that  excited  curiosity  ? 

There  was  a shrine  of  Ramaswami  under  one 
of  the  trees,  where  the  Madigas  of  the  village 


142  CHRISTIANITY  AND  THE  GURUS 


offered  puja  at  stated  intervals.  Those  who  were 
ready  to  listen  had  grouped  themselves  in  various 
attitudes,  suggestive  of  ease  and  rest,  but  all  at 
respectful  distance  from  the  shrine  of  the  swami. 
Pulliah,  to  the  astonishment  of  all,  seated  him- 
self under  the  projecting  roof  of  the  shrine,  and 
placed  his  feet,  still  covered  with  his  sandals, 
against  the  wall  of  the  shrine.  They  were  a 
peaceful  people  before  whom  he  thus  displayed 
his  contempt  for  the  god,  Ramaswami  ; they 
showed  no  sign  of  anger,  but  they  feared  for 
Pulliah.  They  had  never  dared  go  near  the 
shrine  with  their  sandals  on  their  feet,  lest  the 
god  smite  them  in  wrath  ; but  Pulliah  smiled  at 
their  ejaculations  of  astonishment  and  fear.  “ Is 
the  holy  God  in  this  shrine?  Don’t  fear;  no 
harm  will  come  to  me.” 

They  watched  him  all  that  afternoon,  and  as 
they  listened  to  this  fearless  man,  who  talked 
freely  of  Jesus  Christ,  his  sandalled  feet  mean- 
time boldly  defiling  the  Ramaswami  shrine,  their 
respect  for  their  god  ebbed  low,  and  they  began 
to  regard  Pulliah  in  the  light  of  an  honoured 
guest. 


THE  SILENCE  OF  RAMASWAMI  143 


When  evening  came,  a little  hesitation  was 
felt  with  regard  to  asking  him  to  eat  with  them  ; 
for  he  had  told  them  frankly  that  Christians 
considered  the  practice  of  eating  carrion  both 
injurious  and  disgusting ; yet  they  intended  to 
care  for  his  wants.  The  Madiga  headman  of  the 
village  asked  him,  therefore,  whether  he  would 
come  and  eat  with  them  of  boiled  rice  and  a 
little  pepper  sauce,  or  whether  they  should  ask 
a Sudra  to  prepare  his  food  for  him.  The  lat- 
ter course  had  to  be  taken  whenever  a Hindu 
Guru  came  to  instruct  them ; but  Pulliah  de- 
clined this.  He  said,  “ Never  mind ; I’ll  eat 
with  you.” 

They  took  him  right  in  with  them  as  one  of 
themselves.  The  wife  of  the  headman  gave  him 
to  eat  on  a plate  made  of  dried  leaves  sewn  to- 
gether, while  she  laid  the  food  before  her  hus- 
band and  sons  in  little  earthenware  bowls.  The 
plate  of  leaves  had  never  been  used,  and  would 
be  thrown  away  when  Pulliah  had  ended  his 
meal.  This  was  considered  a very  genteel  way 
of  respecting  the  stranger’s  ideas  of  cleanliness. 

That  night  the  villagers  sat  in  the  white  moon- 


144  CHRISTIANITY  AND  THE  GURUS 


light  for  hours  listening  to  the  stories  of  the 
divine  life  and  death  of  the  Christ,  and  to  the 
explanations  concerning  the  precepts  of  the  new 
religion  which  Pulliah  gave  to  them.  They 
agreed  that  all  he  had  told  them  seemed  like 
a bright  light  as  compared  to  the  darkness  in 
which  they  had  thus  far  been  living. 

Pulliah  was  urged  to  remain  with  these  kindly 
people  for  two  days,  and  it  happened  while  he 
was  with  them  that  their  Guru  came  to  look 
after  the  spiritual  welfare  of  his  followers,  and  at 
the  same  time  after  his  own  material  interests. 
He  generally  sat  down  and  said  : “ Cut  a fowl  ! 
Make  rice  and  curry  ! Bring  sarai ! ” The  lads 
of  the  family  would  press  his  limbs,  saying, 
“ The  Guru  is  tired,”  and  hope  in  this  way  to 
receive  divine  reward. 

But  this  time  the  reception  given  to  the  Guru 
lacked  that  element  of  devout  reverence  for  his 
person  to  which  he  was  accustomed.  The  vil- 
lagers poured  water  and  washed  his  feet,  but 
they  omitted  to  catch  it  again  in  bowls,  and  to 
drink  it  in  the  hope  of  eternal  reward.  The 
Guru  met  with  a quiet  air  of  resistance  when, 


A HINDU  GURU. 


{Page  144. 


THE  SILENCE  OF  R AM  AS  W AMI  145 


as  usual,  he  demanded  fowls  and  intoxicating 
drink  for  his  meal.  As  he  sat  under  the  tree  no 
one  asked  for  his  mantras,  but,  instead,  he  heard 
how  Pulliah  told  the  villagers  that,  if  they  wanted 
to  become  Christians,  they  must  have  their  juttus 
cut  off,  for  no  Christian  could  have  a lock  of  hair 
growing  on  his  head  to  afford  a dwelling-place 
for  a swami.  Pulliah  carried  a pair  of  scissors 
ever  in  his  pocket ; for  hundreds  of  juttus  was 
he  called  upon  to  cut  off  in  his  wanderings.  The 
men  of  the  village  bent  their  heads  and  said, 
“Cut  them  off.”  While  all  were  thus  engaged, 
and  even  the  young  boys  came  and  asked  to  be 
shorn  of  their  top-knots,  the  Guru  arose.  He 
looked  neither  to  the  right  nor  to  the  left ; he 
made  salaam  to  no  one ; he  went  away  and 
never  returned. 

It  was  decidedly  in  Pulliah’s  favour  as  he  went 
about,  gaining  access  to  many  a Madiga  house- 
hold, that  he  was  generally  considered  well- 
connected  by  family  relationship.  The  Madigas 
manifest  their  clannish  spirit  by  seeking  to  es- 
tablish new  relationships  by  intermarriage  of 
families,  and  such  connections,  though  often  re- 


W.S.S. 


10 


146  CHRISTIANITY  AND  THE  GURUS 


mote,  are  cherished.  Many  a door  was  opened 
to  Pulliah  because  his  family  had  had  an  in- 
terest in  a marriage  that  had  at  some  time  been 
celebrated  between  a man  of  one  family  and  a 
girl  of  another. 

Another  circumstance  in  his  favour  was  the 
fact  that  he  had  been  much  with  the  Rajayogi 
people  in  his  boyhood.  He  was  familiar  with 
their  phraseology,  their  customs  and  beliefs ; in 
short,  he  spoke  their  language,  and  was,  therefore, 
recognised  as  one  of  them  wherever  he  went 
Pulliah  was  related  to  Bangarapu  Thatiah  and 
other  men  who  for  a time  took  an  interest  in 
the  Rajayogi  sect.  In  his  wanderings  he  sought, 
therefore,  first  of  all  for  Rajayogi  people ; for  they 
had  gone  beyond  the  swamis  of  the  Madiga  vil- 
lage, and  had  at  least  the  desire  to  know  and 
see  the  one  God,  whom  they  had  been  taught  to 
worship.  It  was  a joyful  mission  to  tell  such 
seekers  that  God  had  become  incarnate  in  the 
man  Jesus  Christ. 

When  Pulliah  left  Yerrapallem,  the  heads  of  the 
several  leading  families  of  the  village  assured  him 
that  idol-worship  would  from  henceforth  be 


THE  SILENCE  OF  RAMASWAMI  147 


stopped,  that  Sunday  should  be  a day  of  rest, 
and  that  no  carrion  should  be  brought  into  the 
village.  They  promised  to  pray  to  Jesus  Christ, 
on  their  knees,  as  they  had  seen  him  do.  Some 
months  passed  ; Pulliah  came  often.  Two  of  the 
older  men  began  to  ask,  “ Why  should  we  not 
be  baptized  ? ” Pulliah  offered  to  take  them  with 
him  to  Ongole  at  the  time  of  the  monthly  meet- 
ing, and  with  a staff  in  their  hands  and  a little 
bundle  of  cooked  rice  on  their  shoulders  they 
began  their  journey  of  forty  miles. 

There  were  others  who  were  journeying  on  the 
same  road.  Here  and  there  they  were  joined  by 
fellow-travellers.  If  the  little  company  stopped  at 
some  Madiga  hamlet  by  the  road,  to  ask  for 
water  to  drink,  they  had  to  give  an  account  of 
their  motives  for  undertaking  this  journey.  They 
met  Yettis  on  the  way,  who  carried  the  news  far 
and  near  that  more  Madigas  were  on  the  way 
to  Ongole.  Toward  evening  of  the  third  day 
they  entered  the  mission  compound.  Groups  of 
men  and  women  were  sitting  around  the  little 
fires  kindled  under  pots  of  rice,  waiting  till  the 
women  should  announce  that  it  had  cooked 


148  CHRISTIANITY  AND  THE  GURUS 


enough.  There  was  much  talking,  much  question- 
ing, much  interchange  of  experience.  There  was 
a hospitable,  brotherly  spirit,  too,  as  they  cared 
for  each  other’s  wants. 

The  preachers  took  an  interest  in  the  experi- 
ence of  the  two  men  from  Yerrapallem.  The 
Missionary  talked  with  them.  They  felt  some 
hesitation  when  they  saw  his  white  face,  for  they 
had  never  before  seen  a Dora.  He  spread  mats 
on  the  floor  and  asked  them  to  sit  down,  since 
they  were  unaccustomed  to  chairs.  And  then  the 
Dorasani  came  and  put  plantains  into  the  hands 
of  her  little  children  to  take  to  these  visitors,  and 
she  talked  with  them.  Their  fears  soon  went. 

One  of  them  was  received  for  baptism  ; con- 
cerning the  second,  Papiah,  a serious  obstacle 
arose  in  the  way.  He  had  two  wives,  and  was, 
therefore,  put  off.  The  men  were  astonished,  for 
it  had  not  entered  their  minds  that  this  might 
be  an  objection.  They  said  to  themselves  : “We 
did  not  know  that  this  was  sin.  We  Hindus  do 
such  things.  But  if  it  is  not  God’s  will,  then  it 
must  be  stopped.” 

It  was  an  arrangement  which  had  been  made 


THE  SILENCE  OF  RAMASWAMI  149 


by  Papiah’s  mother.  Her  niece,  whose  husband 
had  deserted  her,  was  destitute,  and  the  old 
mother  saw  no  reason  why  she  should  not  be 
brought  into  Papiah’s  house  as  a second  wife,  for 
thus  she  would  be  provided  with  a home.  The 
first  wife  was  made  unhappy  by  this  arrange 
ment ; but  she  had  only  a daughter,  no  son,  and, 
therefore,  was  not  given  a voice  in  the  matter. 
She  was  deeply  angry  with  her  husband,  and 
refused  to  be  on  friendly  terms  with  the  new 
wife ; but  there  was  no  help  for  her : she  had  to 
bear  the  ills  of  her  new  position  in  silence,  lest 
she  should  be  harshly  treated,  or  even  beaten. 

When  the  travellers  returned  from  Ongole,  the 
matter  was  thoroughly  discussed  in  the  village. 
The  old  mother  was  angry,  and  wanted  to  know 
who  had  ever  heard  that  a man  should  not  have 
two  wives.  The  preachers  came  and  went  during 
the  weeks  that  followed,  and  tried  to  explain 
matters  to  those  who  enquired  for  the  reason  why 
Papiah  should  have  been  refused  baptism.  They 
spoke  of  Adam  and  Eve,  that  God  gave  to  Adam 
only  one  wife  ; they  insisted  that,  according  to 
the  teachings  of  the  New  Testament,  the  man  and 


150  CHRISTIANITY  AND  THE  GURUS 

both  the  women  would  lose  the  salvation  of  their 
souls.  The  preachers  were  themselves  men  who 
until  recently  had  not  been  aware  of  the  religious 
and  ethical  transgression  involved  in  the  practice 
of  polygamy.  The  Madigas,  among  whom  the 
standard  of  social  morality  is,  in  some  of  its 
aspects,  very  low,  were  thus  suddenly  brought 
face  to  face  with  the  purer  conceptions  of  mar- 
ried life  as  upheld  by  Christian  civilization. 

After  the  matter  had  been  thoroughly  discussed 
by  all  the  family,  and  those  who  objected  to  the 
introduction  of  ideas  contrary  to  the  customs  of 
Indian  village  life  had  been  silenced,  a way  was 
found  out  of  the  difficulty.  The  second  wife 
had  relatives  in  the  village,  who  offered  her  a 
home  with  them.  She  had  a child,  but  it  was  a 
girl ; had  it  been  a boy,  her  fate  might  have  been 
different.  There  had  been  no  marriage  ceremony ; 
she,  therefore,  went  as  she  had  come.  Her  child 
died  soon  after,  and  she  went  to  live  with  another 
man,  again  without  ceremony.  The  first  and  only 
legitimate  wife  of  Papiah  now  had  peace  once 
more. 

There  was  a social  as  well  as  a religious  up- 


THE  SILENCE  OF  RAMASWAMI  151 


heaval  wherever  Christianity  entered  the  Madiga 
community.  The  pure  precepts  of  the  new  reli- 
gion were  taken  up  by  one  family  after  another. 
The  juttu  was  cut  off  as  the  outward  sign  of  a 
religious  change.  But  when  a man  sat  apart  at 
meal-time  because  carrion  was  boiling  in  the  pot, , 
it  was  regarded  as  the  signal  of  a change  of  a 
social  nature.  “ Do  you  see  him  ? He  will  not 
eat ! He,  too,  is  going  to  that  Ongole  religion  ! ” 
Sometimes  persecution  within  the  family  circle 
followed,  and  there  were  sad  and  weary  days  and 
months  for  the  heretic. 

When  Christian  families  had  visitors  who  still 
continued  the  old  customs,  they  gave  them  to  eat 
as  much  as  they  wanted,  but  refused  to  let  them 
touch  the  earthen  plates  of  the  family.  Their 
food  was  put  on  old  plates  that  could  be  thrown 
away  when  they  had  finished.  They  gave  them 
to  drink  from  the  brass  cup,  because  it  could  after- 
wards be  scoured  with  sand.  They  said : “ We 
turn  sick  when  you  touch  our  food.  You  are  un- 
clean.” Instead  of  being  ostracized,  they  were  the 
ones  who  ostracized  the  others. 

Many  a man  and  a woman  who  was  deaf  to 


152  CHRISTIANITY  AND  THE  GURUS 


spiritual  advice  first  leant  an  ear  because  he  was 
despised  by  the  family  on  account  of  his  noisome 
food.  Legends  and  traditions  spoke  of  the  curse 
pronounced  over  the  Madigas,  that  they  should  be 
carrion-eaters.  Nothing  had  had  power  to  lift 
the  curse  until  now  it  was  fought  in  Christian 
family-centres.  Argument  was  unnecessary.  Did 
not  many  among  them  succumb  to  disease,  the 
direct  consequence  of  their  loathsome  food  ? Did 
not  the  suffering  of  the  children  in  the  villages 
bear  evidence  of  the  filthy  habits  of  their  parents  ? 

A new  day  had  dawned.  The  gospel  of  cleanli- 
ness had  entered  in.  When  filth  departs,  ignor- 
ance must  go  with  it.  Only  a few  years  after 
the  day  when  Pulliah  had  fearlessly  placed  his 
sandalled  feet  upon  the  shrine  of  Ramaswami,  a 
teacher  came  from  Ongole  to  settle  in  the  village 
Yerrapallem.  Willing  hands  offered  to  raise 
the  mud  walls  of  the  little  school-house.  Each 
household  contributed  to  the  thatch  for  the  roof. 
The  beam,  too,  was  finally  paid  for,  and  made 
ready  by  the  village  carpenter. 

As  for  the  site  of  the  school-house,  it  was 
decided  that  the  shrine  of  Ramaswami  must  yield 


THE  SILENCE  OF  RAMASWAMI  153 


its  place.  The  Sudras  shook  their  heads  in  doubt, 
but  when  several  preachers  came  to  help  make 
room  for  the  school-house,  the  courage  of  the  Chris- 
tians rose  high.  They  took  the  pick-axe  and 
shovel.  The  walls  of  the  shrine  fell.  A little  snake 
that  lay  in  a crevice  was  disturbed.  It  raised  its 
head  and  hissed  but  once  before  the  death-blow 
fell.  But  Ramaswami  must  have  been  afar  off 
He  gave  no  sign  of  wrath. 


4 ■*. 


FROM  NASRIAH  TO  CHRIST 


Nasriah  the  Reformer 
Longing  to  See  God 
His  Mother’s  Curse 


NASRIAH  THE  REFORMER 


It  happened  again  and  again  that  men  and 
women  told  me,  “ Before  I became  a Christian  I 
belonged  to  the  Nasriah  sect.” 

I naturally  enquired  what  this  sect  was. 

“ The  Gurus  of  the  Nasriah  sect  came  to  us 
and  said,  ‘ Don’t  steal,  don’t  worship  idols,  don’t 
drink  sarai.’  It  was  a good  religion,  for  they 
taught  us  that  there  is  only  one  God.” 

“ Did  many  Madigas  belong  to  it  ? ” 

The  answers  were  vague.  One  man  said  there 
were  at  least  one  hundred.  The  next  man  said 
there  must  have  been  one  thousand.  The  third 
man  said,  “ How  can  I know  ? ” 

I asked  many  questions.  Who  was  this 
Nasriah?  When  did  he  live?  Where  in  the 
multiplicity  of  Hindu  cults  was  his  teaching  to  be 


157 


158  FROM  NASRIAH  TO  CHRIST 

classed?  I found  a man  who  said  he  had  been 
in  Tiprantakamu  at  the  annual  feast  of  the 
Nasriah  sect.  Another  said  he  had  seen  Sund- 
ramah,  the  last  surviving  disciple  of  Nasriah. 

Finally  I heard  of  a man,  a Madiga,  who  was 
said  to  have  seen  Nasriah  himself.  I sent  for  him. 
He  came — a stern  old  man,  with  Roman  nose  and 
shaggy  brows.  “ Did  you,  yourself,  see  Nasriah?” 

He  laid  five  finger-tips  in  each  eye  ; he  bent 
towards  me,  and  the  attitude  and  tenseness  of  his 
body  emphasized  his  words : “ With  these  eyes  I 
saw  Nasriah.” 

Thus  I had  Nasriah  placed  as  to  time.  This 
man  was  seventy  years  old,  at  most  seventy-five. 
His  father  had  been  carried  away  with  the  reli- 
gious movement  produced  by  Nasriah,  and  had 
taken  him,  as  a little  boy,  to  Tiprantakamu. 
There  the  lad  had  seen  Nasriah,  a few  years  before 
his  death,  which  must  have  occurred  about  the 
year  1825. 

I hoped  to  hear  something  about  the  personality 
of  the  remarkable  man,  Nasriah,  whose  influence 
was  so  wide-spread,  even  after  many  years.  But 
the  stern  old  man  before  me  could  tell  me  no- 


NASRIAH  THE  REFORMER 


159 


thing  about  the  man,  though  he  was  ready  to  tell 
me  much  about  the  sect  which  bears  his  name. 
For  years  he  was  an  initiated  Guru  of  that  sect. 
I gathered  from  him  all  he  could  tell  me,  but  the 
more  I heard  the  more  I desired  to  know  who  this 
Nasriah  was.  I sent  word  in  several  directions 
whether  there  was  any  man  living  who  remembered 
hearing  his  father  tell  any  story  about  the  Guru 
Nasriah.  Thus  a Mohammedan  was  discovered 
whose  father  had  been  an  initiated  disciple  of 
Nasriah,  and  had  often  told  him  the  story  of  the 
way  in  which  Nasriah  became  so  great  a Guru. 
He  himself  had  seen  him  when  a young  boy. 
He  was  now  an  old  man,  and  the  story  which  he 
told  is  characteristic  of  the  religious  life  of  India. 

There  lived,  a hundred  years  ago,  a Moham- 
medan of  the  Syed  sect,  who  was  a wealthy  trader. 
He  owned  several  ships,  and  often  went  on  long 
voyages.  On  one  of  his  voyages,  Galep  Sherif — 
for  such  was  his  name — met  with  a Guru  whose 
teaching  attracted  him.  He  asked  for  instruction, 
and  then  proceeded  to  obey  his  teacher  implicitly. 
His  lucrative  business  was  given  up.  In  the 
Baputla  Taluk  he  built  himself  a temple,  where  he 


i6o  FROM  NASRIAH  TO  CHRIST 


dwelt,  and  many  came  to  hear  his  teaching.  His 
main  doctrine  was  that  there  is  only  one  God. 

The  Rajah  of  Narsaravapetta  heard  of  Galep 
Sherif  and  the  supernatural  power  which  he  pos- 
sessed to  work  miraculous  deeds.  He  sent  his 
messenger  to  invite  the  Guru  to  his  palace,  inti- 
mating that  he  had  some  inclination  to  become 
his  disciple.  Galep  Sherif  came.  He  waited  a 
day  or  two,  but  the  Rajah  delayed  to  summon 
him  to  his  presence.  Not  willing  to  wait  longer, 
he  arose  and  started  on  his  homeward  journey. 

Now  the  Rajah  had  an  attendant,  Nasr 
Mahomed  by  name,  of  the  Shaik  sect,  who  was 
deeply  interested  in  this  Guru.  He  followed  him 
as  he  left  the  palace,  fell  at  his  feet,  and  begged 
to  be  instructed  as  his  disciple.  The  Guru  de- 
manded an  initiation  fee  of  four  hundred  rupees. 
So  intent  was  Nasr  Mahomed  on  receiving  the 
desired  instruction  that  he  promised  the  fee, 
though  he  knew  he  had  nothing  wherewith  to  pay 
it.  After  he  had  been  taught  even  the  power  to 
perform  miracles,  the  day  approached  when  he 
must  pay  the  promised  fee.  Nasr  Mahomed  rose 
up  and  fled.  He  reached  Tiprantakamu,  where 


NASRIAH  THE  REFORMER 


16 


there  was  a Hindu  temple.  The  attendants  at 
the  temple  and  the  worshippers  who  came  listened 
to  his  teaching,  and  the  number  of  his  followers 
increased  daily. 

Galep  Sherif  became  aware  of  the  hiding-place 
of  his  disciple,  Nasr  Mahomed,  and  appeared  in 
person  at  the  temple  to  demand  the  promised  fee. 
There  was  deliberation  among  the  followers  of 
Nasr  Mahomed.  They  said  : “He  is  a great  Guru. 
Let  us  pay  his  debt,  and  then  let  us  build  him  a 
temple.  He  will  stay  among  us,  and  we  shall  earn 
salvation.”  Galep  Sherif  received  his  fee  and 
went  his  way.  A large  temple  was  built,  and  ere 
long  the  influence  of  the  new  Guru  was  felt  far 
and  near.  The  common  people  gave  to  the 
Mohammedan  name  Nasr  the  Telugu  ending,  and 
thus  the  sect  became  known  as  the  Nasriah  sect. 

And  what  was  the  creed  of  Nasriah?  By  birth 
he  was  a Mohammedan,  yet  I never  heard  that  he 
or  his  followers  mentioned  Mohammed,  the  prophet. 
The  Guru  with  whom  Galep  Sherif  came  in 
contact  on  his  voyage  must  have  been  a Yogi. 
The  teaching  of  Nasriah  is  largely  Yogi  doctrine. 
In  fact,  his  followers  called  themselves  Rajayogi 


W.S.S. 


ii 


1 62  FROM  NASRIAH  TO  CHRIST 


people.  The  Mohammedan  and  the  Yogi  alike 
assert  that  there  is  one  God. 

The  following  instructions  for  devotion,  given 
by  Nasriah,  coincide  with  Yogi  doctrine  : “ Con- 
centrate your  mind.  Put  away  all  secret  thoughts. 
Turn  the  eye  upward.  Forget  the  existence  of  the 
body.  Let  the  sight  turn  towards  the  coil  of  hair 
on  top  of  the  head  (as  worn  by  sanyasis).  Gaze 
with  firm  mind.  The  following  will  appear  : Light, 
angelic  spirits,  sacred  rivers  and  places,  also  Rishis, 
the  sun  and  moon,  lightning,  thunder,  fire,  water, 
sound  will  fill  the  heavens,  the  earth  will  appear 
as  if  it  were  an  egg,  Brahma  will  be  seen,  all  as 
if  one.” 

Nasriah  made  disciples  and  sent  them  out  to 
preach.  He  made  no  distinction  of  either  caste  or 
sex.  Women  as  well  as  men  passed  through  the 
initiatory  rites,  and  then  went  forth  to  make  con- 
verts. I enquired  about  these  rites,  but  came  upon 
a solid  wall  of  silence  every  time.  The  most  that 
any  one  told  me  was  that  something  was  whis- 
pered into  their  ear  which  must  never  be  passed 
on  to  any  one  who  was  not  in  turn  found  worthy 
to  receive  initiation. 


NASRIAH  THE  REFORMER  163 


During  the  life-time  of  Nasriah  his  disciples 
feared  to  do  what  he  had  forbidden.  He  rebuked 
them  when  he  found  that  sarai  and  bhang  were 
used  by  them.  He  frowned  on  caste  distinction. 
He  was  a man  whose  righteous  indignation  could 
overpower  him.  Even  those  who  could  not  tell 
me  who  Nasriah  was  could  tell  of  his  act  of 
vengeance  when  he  shed  blood  to  mark  his 
hatred  of  lust.  He  heard  one  day  the  cry  of 
one  of  his  female  disciples  who  was  being  insulted 
and  injured.  He  caught  the  evil-doer,  and  stabbed 
him  in  the  heart.  Nothing  was  done  to  him,  for, 
though  he  was  imprisoned,  none  could  hold  him. 
The  common  people  saw  him  pass  through  the 
prison  walls  and  walk  about  in  the  bazaar  while 
the  keepers  stood  at  the  prison  door.  Such  were 
the  tales  told  of  Nasriah,  and  they  explain  much 
of  the  powerful  hold  which  he  had  upon  the 
people. 

After  his  death  the  sect  became  corrupt.  His 
disciples  said  it  could  do  no  harm  to  worship  idols. 
In  their  ethical  precepts  they  grew  lax.  Why 
should  not  a man  steal  if  he  could  do  so  without 
exposure  ? It  was  irksome  to  abstain  from  sarai 


1 64  FROM  NASRIAH  TO  CHRIST 


and  bhang.  It  seems  that  even  the  most  revolt- 
ing forms  of  Sakti-worship  entered  the  sect. 

I doubt  whether  the  separate  temple  for  the 
Madigas  at  Tiprantakamu  was  built  during  the 
life-time  of  Nasriah.  He  would  not  have  per- 
mitted such  emphasis  on  caste-distinction.  One 
of  his  earliest  converts  seems  to  have  been  a 
Madiga,  who  was  made  a Guru,  and  was  sent  out 
to  convert  his  people.  To  belong  to  the  Nasriah 
sect  meant  advancement  to  the  Madigas. 
They  realized  that  the  theism  of  Nasriah  was 
better  than  the  polytheism  of  their  village  cults. 
One  man  said  to  me  : “A  Yogi  first  told  me  that 
I am  of  sinful  nature,  and  must  seek  to  earn  salva- 
tion. I never  before  had  thought  of  myself  in  that 
way.”  Another  man  said  : “ Beside  our  own  vil- 
lage gods,  I worshipped  the  idols  of  Vishnu. 
But  when  the  Rajayogi  people  came  and  told  me 
that  there  is  one  God,  and  that  idols  are  useless, 
I believed  them.  It  was  much  better  than  any- 
thing I had  before  heard.”  It  raised  the  Madigas 
in  the  social  scale,  too,  to  belong  to  the  Nasriah 
sect,  for  when  they  went  to  Tiprantakamu  in  the 
autumn  of  the  year  to  the  annual  feast,  they 


IDOL  WORSHIP. 


NASRIAH  THE  REFORMER  165 

stood  in  a line  with  people  of  all  castes  and 
classes. 

Whole  families  went  to  the  feast  together. 
They  took  with  them  a goat,  fowls,  rice,  tamarind, 
and  the  various  spices  used  for  curry.  All  these 
they  delivered  to  Sundramah,  as  they  bowed 
low  before  her  with  special  reverence,  for  she 
was  the  last  of  the  band  of  disciples  who  gathered 
around  Nasriah.  They  laid  flowers  on  the  grave 
of  Nasriah,  and  worshipped  there.  Sundramah 
took  all  that  was  brought,  and  passed  it  on  for 
the  general  cooking.  The  food  for  all  who  came, 
regardless  of  caste,  was  boiled  in  one  pot,  and 
when  it  was  time  to  eat,  all  sat  down  and  ate 
together.  But  the  Madigas  sat  a little  to  one 
side.  Not  even  in  the  Nasriah  sect  would  the 
Sudra  sit  side  by  side  with  the  Madiga  and  eat 
with  him. 

When  the  movement  toward  Christianity  began 
among  the  Madigas,  the  men  and  women  who  had 
sought  salvation  in  the  Nasriah  sect  were  among 
the  first  to  open  their  hearts  to  the  divine  life  that 
is  in  Christ.  The  followers  of  Nasriah  became  the 
disciples  of  Christ.  At  Tiprantakamu  it  was  said, 


1 66  FROM  NASRIAH  TO  CHRIST 


“ The  Madigas  are  leaving  us.”  Some  shrugged 
their  shoulders.  “ What  can  we  do  to  hold  them  ? 
They  are  following  a new  religion Others  said, 
“ Let  them  go.”  And  thus  the  Nasriah  sect 
became  to  many  a man  as  the  memory  of  a 
stepping-stone  to  something  higher. 


LONGING  TO  SEE  GOD 


The  fame  of  the  Ulluri  family  was  spread 
abroad  in  the  land,  not  for  their  wealth,  nor  for 
leadership  in  great  and  noble  deeds,  but  be- 
cause they  were  devout.  They  had  given  to  their 
Guru,  Poliah,  a cow  worth  sixteen  rupees.  This 
was  considered  a very  noble  gift  ta  offer  to  a 
Guru,  and  established  the  reputation  of  the  family 
for  religious  devotion. 

Chinnapudy  Poliah,  though  wholly  illiterate, 
seems  to  have  been  a man  possessed  of  a severe 
type  of  earnestness,  that  distinguished  him  from 
others,  and  supported  his  claim  to  being  a Guru. 
He  was  a man  who  indulged  in  deep  meditation, 
and  was  a dreamer  of  dreams.  One  day  he 
reasoned  in  this  wise  : “ The  swami  at  Kottapa- 
konda  and  the  swamis  at  other  places  where 

167 


1 68  FROM  NASRIAH  TO  CHRIST 


people  go  to  worship  were  all  made  by  men. 
Now  who  made  these  men  ? Who  made  earth 
and  heaven  ? Must  I die  without  seeing  God  ? ” 
His  father  was  a follower  of  Nasriah.  It  was  one 
of  the  earliest  recollections  of  Poliah  that  his 
father  took  him  to  Tiprantakamu  to  see  Nasriah. 
The  lad  never  forgot  the  man  who  lived  in  poverty, 
like  a sanyasi,  ever  ready  to  talk  with  any  one  of 
his  chief  doctrine — that  there  is  only  one  God. 
Nasriah  planted  antagonism  to  idol-worship  into 
the  mind  of  the  boy,  and  with  it  a restless  desire 
to  see  God. 

In  his  ministrations  to  the  Ulluri  family  the 
Guru,  Poliah,  knew  how  to  clothe  his  ignorance 
round  about  with  a mantle  of  profound  reverence. 
There  were  hymns  and  mantras  which  he  taught 
them.  He  had  caught  a word  here  and  there  of 
the  philosophy  of  the  Rajayogi  people,  and  gave 
a glimpse  of  his  wisdom  on  special  occasions  to 
his  followers  ; but  as  soon  as  he  found  himself 
going  beyond  his  depth,  he  withdrew  with  that 
air  of  mystery  which  is  so  fascinating  to  simple- 
minded  people.  He  would  promise  to  tell  them 
more  next  time,  and  thus  kept  them  ever  filled 


LONGING  TO  SEE  GOD  169 

with  curiosity  and  on  the  alert,  wondering  what 
he  would  tell  them  when  he  came  again. 

One  of  the  promises  which  Poliah  was  ever 
holding  out  to  his  followers  was  that  they  should 
see  God.  Now  the  aged  father  of  the  family  had 
a great  desire  to  see  God.  He  was  respected  by 
all,  and  his  sons  began  to  consider  the  matter  in 
earnest.  They  talked  with  Poliah,  who  demanded 
fifteen  rupees  as  a fee.  They  thought  this  was 
too  much.  He  waxed  eloquent  in  describing  the 
severe  test  which  he  had  to  undergo  before  he 
acquired  the  knowledge  of  the  mystic  formulae. 
He  pointed  out  that  the  whole  family  would 
without  doubt  obtain  salvation  if  one  of  their 
number  succeeded  through  his  efforts  in  seeing 
God.  Finally,  Poliah  agreed  to  be  satisfied  with 
eleven  rupees,  and  the  night  was  decided  upon 
when  the  attempt  should  be  made. 

Ten  men  and  women,  who  had  faith,  and 
were  filled  with  the  desire  to  see  God,  sat  to- 
gether at  midnight  in  the  house  of  the  Ulluri 
family.  Two  little  oil-lamps  stood  in  niches  in 
the  wall,  shedding  a dim  light  on  the  scene.  The 
Guru  sat  in  the  centre,  his  followers  in  a circle 


170  FROM  NASRIAH  TO  CHRIST 


around  him.  He  sang  hymns  and  invocations  of 
the  Nasriah  sect,  and  then  proceeded  to  draw 
mystic  circles,  saying  mantras  as  he  drew  them. 
His  demeanour  inspired  awe,  and  his  followers 
held  their  breath  and  feared  to  move. 

At  last  the  decisive  moment  had  come.  He 
motioned  to  all  to  withdraw,  leaving  only  the 
aged  father  within.  More  mantras  were  said, 
more  mystic  figures  were  drawn,  and  then  the 
father  of  the  Ulluri  family  laid  his  fingers  against 
his  eyes,  ears,  and  nostrils,  as  Poliah  had  previously 
instructed  him  to  do.  He  understood,  too,  that  he 
was  thus  to  shut  off  all  connection  with  the  outer 
world,  and  to  perceive  God  with  an  inner  sense. 

A little  time  elapsed,  and  then  Poliah  asked,  in 
an  awed  whisper,  whether  he  saw  anything. 

“ All  looks  red  and  green,  and  in  it  I see  some- 
thing as  if  it  were  the  picture  of  a man.” 

“ It  is  God,”  said  Poliah ; “ you  have  seen 
Him.” 

Dazed  and  full  of  wonder,  the  old  man  joined 
his  children  without.  He  thought  it  over  many 
a day,  as  he  sat  in  the  shade  of  the  house,  his 
grandchildren  playing  around  him.  Many  came 


LONGING  TO  SEE  GOD  171 

and  went,  and  he  had  to  tell  them  how  it  all 
seemed  to  him.  It  was  a source  of  deep  satis- 
faction to  the  good  old  man,  and  his  sons  did  not 
begrudge  the  money  it  cost  them. 

Some  years  had  passed  when,  one  day,  Wasipogu 
Bassiah  came  to  Maduluri  to  get  the  tools  with 
which  he  did  his  leather-work  sharpened.  He 
was  a friend  of  the  Ulluri  family,  and  went  to 
them  for  a visit  before  he  returned  to  his  home, 
three  miles  distant.  While  they  were  talking  of 
this  and  that,  he  asked  whether  they  had  heard  of 
the  new  religion,  which  a Dora  had  brought  to 
Ongole,  and  which  was  said  to  be  a good  religion. 
They  had  not,  but  asked  for  further  information. 
Bassiah  could  not  satisfy  them ; he  had  only  heard 
that  those  who  believe  in  this  religion  are  saved 
through  one,  Jesus  Christ,  that  He  must  be  wor- 
shipped, and  no  other  swamis  whatsoever  beside 
Him.  Moreover,  a Yetti  had  told  him  that  he 
knew  several  Madigas  who  had  joined  this  new 
sect,  and  they  did  no  work  on  Sunday,  nor  would 
they  allow  carrion  to  be  brought  into  their  vil- 
lage. 

Bassiah  went  home.  Near  his  house  he  found 


172  FROM  NASRIAH  TO  CHRIST 

a man  sitting  under  a tree,  evidently  resting  after 
a journey.  He  had  enquired  for  the  Madiga 
headman  of  the  village,  and  was  told  he  would 
soon  come.  As  headman  it  was  Bassiah’s  duty  to 
receive  strangers,  to  enquire  after  their  errands,  and 
lend  assistance  if  there  was  an  appeal  to  him  in 
his  official  capacity.  Now  when  Bassiah  heard  that 
the  man  before  him,  Baddepudy  Kanniah,  was  a 
follower  of  the  sect  which  worships  Jesus  Christ, 
he  was  glad.  He  cared  for  his  wants ; in  fact,  he 
took  charge  of  Kanniah.  The  tribal  system  of 
the  Indian  village  community  thus  lent  itself  as  a 
vehicle  to  Christian  propaganda.  Next  day  they 
went  to  Maduluri,  and  were  well  received  as 
guests.  They  were  asked  to  sit  on  a raised  seat, 
made  of  stone,  and  as  the  villagers  gathered 
around,  Bassiah  told  them  why  Kanniah  had 
come  to  them,  and  they  agreed  that  it  would  be 
well  to  listen  to  all  he  had  to  say. 

Little  was  said  at  the  time,  but  after  their 
visitors  were  gone  some  among  the  villagers 
expressed  an  opinion  that  it  would  be  well  to 
hear  more  about  this  religion,  and  proposed  that 
they  extend  an  invitation  to  come  again  in  the 


LONGING  TO  SEE  GOD 


173 


evening,  to  eat  with  them,  and  then  to  talk  more. 
This  was  done.  Two  men  were  sent  to  extend 
the  invitation  of  the  villagers,  which  was  accepted. 
Kanniah  had  the  best  of  opportunities  that  night. 
All  were  intent  on  hearing ; the  little  children  were 
asleep,  and  only  the  occasional  barking  of  the 
village  dogs  broke  the  silence  of  the  night.  The 
hearts  of  the  listeners  were  stirred  within  them 
when  they  heard  the  story  of  the  death  of  Christ ; 
and  then,  when  Kanniah  prayed  after  the  manner 
of  the  Christian,  who  does  not  hesitate  to  make 
his  thoughts  known  to  his  Father  who  is  in  heaven, 
they  felt  that  they  had  never  known  anything  like 
this  before,  and  they  said  among  themselves  in  the 
days  that  followed:  “Why  should  we  go  on  as 
heretofore  ? There  is  no  salvation  in  all  that  we 
have  been  doing.” 

As  the  younger  men  of  the  Ulluri  family  were 
discussing  the  new  religion  with  several  young 
kinsmen,  who  had  come  from  a little  distance,  as 
soon  as  they  heard  from  a passing  Yetti  that 
strange  things  were  taking  place  in  Maduluri,  the 
aged  father  of  the  Ulluri  family  advised  them  to 
take  time  to  consider.  He  asked  them  to  remember 


174  FROM  NASRIAH  TO  CHRIST 


that  they  had  not  been  without  religious  zeal  here- 
tofore. Had  not  the  whole  family  on  one  occasion 
journeyed  to  the  grave  of  Nasriah  at  Tiprantakamu, 
with  goodly  offerings  of  rice  and  a goat?  Did 
they  not  lay  garlands  on  the  grave,  singing  appro- 
priate hymns  ? Had  they  not  given  to  the  Guru 
Poliah  a cow,  in  return  for  his  ministrations  ? 
And,  above  all,  had  not  he,  their  father,  at  mid- 
night some  years  ago,  been  allowed  to  see  God  ? 

Moreover,  this  Madiga  patriarch  had  a daugh- 
ter, Ukkamah,  whom  he  held  dear,  with  a peculiar 
love  and  respect.  When  about  ten  years  old 
she  became  a widow.  In  her  infancy,  in  imitation 
of  the  customs  of  the  Aryan  Hindu,  her  parents 
had  married  her  to  a young  lad  of  a family  well 
known  to  them.  The  second  ceremony,  when 
she  would  be  led  as  a bride  to  his  house,  had  not 
been  performed.  And  now,  like  the  Brahmin 
widow,  this  little  Madiga  maid  was  never  to 
marry,  not  because  it  would  have  been  contrary 
to  Madiga  usage,  but  because  it  was  thought 
well  to  follow  the  example  of  the  twice-born 
Brahmins. 

As  the  years  passed,  Ukkamah  took  comfort 


LONGING  TO  SEE  GOD 


175 


in  the  religious  rites  taught  by  the  disciples  of 
Nasriah.  Her  parents  encouraged  her  in  singing 
the  hymns  of  that  sect,  accompanying  herself  on 
the  cithara.  It  came  about  gradually,  after  she 
was  forty  years  of  age,  that  she  was  asked  to 
come  to  villages  here  and  there  and  sing  and 
play.  She  was  treated  with  much  respect.  People 
said,  “ She  is  not  like  other  women.  She  serves 
God.”  After  a time  a cousin  also  lost  her  hus- 
band, and  the  two  women  henceforth  went  about 
together.  They  were  not  allowed  to  go  away 
from  any  village  where  they  had  sung  empty- 
handed.  Money  accumulated  in  their  hands ; 
they  laid  some  of  it  as  an  offering  on  the  shrine 
of  Nasriah.  Ukkamah  gave  a part  of  hers  to- 
ward the  support  of  her  parents. 

Ukkamah  was  now  at  a distant  village,  and 
her  father  insisted  that,  before  any  decisive  step 
was  taken,  her  opinion  must  be  asked,  for  had 
she  not  more  piety  than  any  one  else  in  the 
family?  Condiah,  the  eldest  son,  was  restless 
during  the  days  that  followed.  Finally,  he  said  : 
“ Ukkamah  is  not  coming.  I shall  go  to  her.” 
Two  days  he  journeyed.  There  was  welcome  in 


176  FROM  NASRIAH  TO  CHRIST 


his  sister’s  eyes  when  she  saw  him.  “ Is  it  well 
with  all  at  home?’’  was  her  first  question.  She 
told  the  village  people  that  her  brother  had  come, 
and  all  gathered  with  a friendly  curiosity,  and 
the  wife  of  the  Madiga  headman  brought  butter- 
milk in  a brass  vessel,  that  he  might  drink  and 
be  refreshed. 

When  brother  and  sister  sat  down  to  talk, 
Condiah  soon  found  that  he  had  no  opposition 
to  face.  Ukkamah  said  : “ I have  heard  of  this 
religion.  We  said  in  the  Nasriah  sect  that  there 
is  one  God.  This  was  right ; but  we  did  wrong, 
because  we  continued  to  worship  idols.  It  is 
well  that  you  have  the  desire  to  go  to  Ongole. 
Do  not  wait  for  me.  Go  at  once.  Soon  I shall 
return  home,  and  then  I,  too,  shall  make  known 
my  faith  in  Jesus  Christ.”  These  were  Ukkamah’s 
words  ; and  as  Condiah  repeated  them  after  his 
arrival  at  home,  all  were  satisfied  that  the  time 
had  come  when  they  should  break  away  from 
the  old,  and  enter  upon  the  new  life. 

The  Ulluri  family  was  sufficiently  prominent 
to  make  the  change  in  their  various  relations  a 
matter  of  comment.  The  Sudras  were  much 


LONGING  TO  SEE  GOD 


177 


displeased  with  them.  Never  before  had  the 

Ulluri  family  refused  to  come  to  work,  as  they 
now  did,  when  called  on  the  Sunday.  The 
number  of  Christians  was  rapidly  increasing,  and 
all  showed  this  same  spirit  of  insubordination, 
which  the  Sudras  had  never  before  known  among 
their  serfs.  “ Let  us  teach  them,”  they  said. 

It  was  harvest  time,  and  since  some  of  the 
Christians  had  helped  to  plough  and  till  the 
soil,  it  was  their  right,  according  to  ancient  cus- 
tom, to  receive  their  share  of  the  grain.  To 
enforce  a lesson,  the  Sudras  thrashed  their  grain 
on  Sundays,  and  the  Christians,  who  showed  their 
moral  courage  in  staying  away,  thus  incurred 
considerable  loss. 

On  a Sunday  the  Sudras  were  all  out  on  the 
fields  at  work  ; only  a few  had  remained  behind 
in  the  village.  The  old  mother  of  the  Munsiff 
made  a fire  to  boil  a little  milk.  While  away 
for  a few  minutes,  the  fire  touched  a basket  of 
bran  standing  near,  which  soon  burned  lustily, 
and,  before  the  people  could  be  called  from  the 
fields,  ten  of  the  houses  were  destroyed  by  fire. 
All  the  grain  that  had  been  gathered  on  those 


w.s.s. 


12 


178  FROM  NASRIAH  TO  CHRIST 


Sundays,  to  spite  the  Christians,  was  burned. 
The  old  mother  ran  away  to  hide  herself  for 
half  a day,  and  when  she  again  appeared,  half 
distracted,  she  wailed,  “ God  sent  it  as  a punish- 
ment ! ” She  had  been  specially  harsh  in  her 
attitude  toward  the  Christians,  and  that  she 
should  have  been  the  cause  of  so  much  loss 
seemed  to  all  a judgment  direct  from  God.  The 
strife  was  now  ended.  Henceforth  the  Sudras 
attended  to  small  jobs  on  Sunday,  and  did  their 
important  work  when  the  Christians  could  join 
them. 

The  vexation  of  the  Sudras  was  again  roused 
when  they  prepared  a feast  to  one  of  the  village 
matris,  and  sent  for  the  Madigas  to  beat  the 
drums  and  dance  before  the  idol.  It  was  one 
of  the  duties  which  they  owed  to  the  community 
on  the  ancient  system  of  mutual  service.  But 
now  they  sent  word  that  they  could  not  come. 

A message  came  back  to  them : “ Then  you 
stay  by  yourselves,  and  we  stay  by  ourselves. 
You  need  not  serve  us  any  more.  We  do  not 
want  you.” 

The  Sudras  thought  it  would  be  an  easy  matter 


LONGING  TO  SEE  GOD 


179 


to  supply  the  places,  but  found  themselves  mis- 
taken. Those  who  were  not  already  Christians 
had  a sense  of  clannish  honour,  and  refused  to 
come  into  work  that  had  been  taken  from  others 
of  their  tribe.  Only  a few  worthless  fellows  came. 
The  Sudras,  therefore,  thought  best  to  make  peace. 

The  Ulluri  family  was  related  to  a number  of 
other  family  groups,  and  it  soon  became  known 
among  them  all  that  the  Guru,  Poliah,  had  been 
advised  to  become  a Christian,  as  the  only  way 
in  which  he  could  obtain  salvation.  But  some 
of  the  more  distant  branches  of  the  family  circle 
did  not  grasp  the  significance  of  the  change. 
They  thought  a change  of  Gurus  had  taken  place, 
but  that  the  ancient  cults  of  the  Madigas  could 
not  thereby  be  touched. 

It  happened  one  day  that  a messenger  from 
a branch  of  the  family,  living  ten  miles  away, 
brought  an  invitation  to  attend  a feast  to  Peran- 
talu.  Several  of  the  men  of  the  family  said  : “ We 
are  Christians.  What  have  we  to  do  with 
Perantalu  ? ” 

Others  said,  “ Let  us  go  and  tell  them  what  we 
think  of  their  markings  on  the  wall.” 


i8o  FROM  NASRIAH  TO  CHRIST 


They  went,  and  the  unsuspecting  hosts  were 
overcome  by  the  indignant  demand  that  the 
markings  be  scratched  from  the  wall,  or  their 
guests  would  not  touch  a morsel  of  the  rice  and 
curry  which  had  been  prepared. 

One  of  them  meekly  remarked : “ Heretofore 
it  made  no  difference  which  sect  any  one  joined, 
he  could  yet  worship  Perantalu.  Is  it  then 
different  with  Christianity  ? ” 

In  the  midst  of  argument  and  dispute  some 
one  took  his  sandals  and  offered  to  scrape  the 
yellow  saffron  and  red  dots  of  Perantalu  off  the 
wall.  It  was  done.  Harmony  was  restored. 
The  feast  was  enjoyed  without  being  first  offered 
to  the  departed  female  ancestress  of  the  family, 
for  whom  the  markings  had  been  made. 

“ What  good  thing  can  she  do  for  us  ? What 
evil  will  she  ward  off?  It  is  God’s  blessing  that 
we  want,”  said  one  of  the  guests. 

Another  branch  of  the  family  were  preparing 
for  the  annual  feast  to  Nagarpamah.  They  wor- 
shipped Naga,  the  hooded  serpent,  personified  as 
a woman,  a combination  of  Sakti  worship  and 
the  ancient  serpent-worship.  The  huge  ant-hills 


LONGING  TO  SEE  GOD 


181 


out  in  the  fields,  in  which  the  white  ants  have 
their  nests,  are  often  the  abodes  of  snakes,  that 
coil  in  and  out  of  the  passages  dug  by  the  ants, 
and  feed  on  the  larvae.  Once  a year  a feast  is 
made  to  Nagarpamah,  when  her  supposed  abode 
is  painted  with  saffron  and  red  dots.  Water  is 
poured  over  the  ant-hill  to  induce  Nagarpamah 
to  grant  plentiful  harvest ; cooked  rice  is  placed 
in  front  of  it,  and  milk  is  poured  into  the  passages. 
Puja  is  then  made,  and,  whether  there  is  any 
trace  of  a snake  in  the  ant-hill  or  not,  the 
worshippers  go  away  satisfied  to  enjoy  their 
own  feast,  for  they  believe  that  Nagarpamah  is 
aware  of  the  worship  that  has  been  offered 
her. 

After  hearing  of  the  summary  proceedings  with 
the  markings  of  Perantalu,  it  was  thought  best 
to  put  off  the  annual  feast  to  Nagarpamah.  In 
fact,  it  was  never  held,  for  Christianity  spread  so 
rapidly  it  carried  all  before  it. 

There  were  Ellama  worshippers  in  the  family 
who  were  ashamed  to  have  anything  to  do  with 
the  Ellama-house,  and  the  pot  with  the  emblem- 
atical shells  hung  from  the  roof  within.  The 


182  FROM  NASRIAH  TO  CHRIST 


Matangi  of  that  region  looked  on  with  a dis- 
pleasure which  she  did  not  try  to  conceal. 

Schools  were  started.  The  brightest  lads  were 
sent  to  Ongole  to  study,  and  the  men  and 
women  who  sought  for  salvation  in  the  Nasriah 
sect  were  singled  out  one  after  another  to  do 
valiant  service  at  important  centres  of  the  move- 
ment of  the  Madigas  toward  Christianity. 


HIS  MOTHER’S  CURSE 


The  young  man,  Kommu  Puniah,  wanted  to 
make  sure,  before  he  started  on  his  journey  north, 
to  trade  in  hides,  that  when  he  returned  he 
might  wed  the  maiden,  Subbamah.  She  was  a 
comely  girl,  about  thirteen  years  old,  and,  as  she 
was  a distant  relative,  he  had  often  seen  her, 
but  of  late  years  he  had  not  dared  to  speak  to 
her,  for  such  was  not  the  custom. 

He  had  spoken  to  her  family  concerning  her, 
and  they  had  agreed  to  the  marriage.  But  he 
loved  Subbamah,  and  one  day,  as  he  stood  talk- 
ing with  her  grandmother,  he  knew  that  Sub- 
bamah was  behind  the  door,  listening  to  every 
word.  He  said : “ I shall  be  gone  one  year, 
and  when  I return  I shall  have  rupees  in  my 
hands.  Do  not  let  Subbamah  marry  any  one 
while  I am  gone.”  The  old  grandmother  replied, 
“ When  you  return,  we  shall  give  her  to  you  as 

183 


184  FROM  NASRIAH  TO  CHRIST 


a wife.”  Something  moved  behind  the  door, 
and  Puniah  knew  that  Subbamah  had  put  her 
hand  up  to  her  face,  and  that  she  was  pleased. 

Not  one  year,  but  five  years,  Puniah  stayed  in 
that  northern  district,  and  never  did  he  hear  of  a 
Madiga  returning  home  with  his  cart-loads  of 
hides  but  he  sent  word  to  Subbamah’s  grand- 
mother that  he  was  doing  well,  and  would  soon 
come  home  to  wed  Subbamah. 

Puniah  belonged  to  the  Nasriah  sect,  and  so 
did  his  kinsman,  Seshiah,  who  was  with  him  in 
the  north.  A Madiga,  Darla  Yelliah,  a trader 
in  hides,  who  made  frequent  journeys  back  and 
forth,  came  to  them  once  in  six  months  to  buy 
of  them  the  hides  which  they  had  traded  from 
the  Sudras.  This  man,  Yelliah,  was  a Christian, 
and  the  three  men  began  to  discuss  their  religious 
beliefs,  after  they  had  settled  their  trade  in  hides. 
Yelliah  sang  a Christian  hymn,  and  the  other  two 
men  sang  a Nasriah  hymn,  but  asked  to  be  taught 
the  Christian  hymn. 

Yelliah  said  they  ought  to  let  all  the  forms 
and  customs  of  the  Nasriah  sect  go,  and  pray 
to  the  true  God.  They  wanted  to  know  how 


HIS  MOTHER’S  CURSE 


185 

this  was  done.  It  happened  that  they  were  on 
the  bank  of  a river,  on  the  way  to  some  distant 
village.  Yelliah  took  a cloth  which  hung  over 
his  shoulder,  and  spread  it  on  the  ground.  He 
told  his  companions  to  kneel  with  him,  and  to 
listen,  for  he  was  going  to  talk  with  his  God, 
who  was  his  Father.  Before  he  left  them  that 
day,  Yelliah  taught  them  the  ten  commandments. 
They  said  after  he  was  gone,  “We  can  continue 
to  sing  Nasriah  hymns,  but  it  would  be  well  to 
pray  as  Yelliah  did.” 

Whenever  Yelliah  passed  that  way  he  told 
them  more,  and  after  a time  they  said,  “We  will 
stop  drinking  sarai  and  eating  carrion.”  But  the 
Malas,  with  whom  they  had  made  a contract  for 
hides,  were  displeased.  They  said  : “You  are  not 
living  like  Madigas.  You  do  not  eat  carrion. 
You  are  Christians.”  They  refused  to  fulfil  their 
part  of  the  contract,  and  as  Puniah  had  nothing 
in  his  hands  by  way  of  proof,  he  lost  all  he  had 
advanced.  After  that  he  bought  hides  outright, 
though  it  was  not  as  lucrative  as  by  contract. 

Puniah  returned  home,  married  and  settled,  and 
was  prosperous.  He  found  a man  who  could  read 


1 86  FROM  NASRIAH  TO  CHRIST 


a little,  and  asked  him  to  teach  him.  Through 
him  he  heard  that  a Dora  had  come  to  Ongole, 
and  decided  to  go  and  see.  He  took  a load  of 
goat-skins  and  journeyed  to  Ongole  to  sell  them. 
As  he  entered  the  mission  compound  he  met 
Pentiah,  and  sat  down  to  have  a talk  with  him 
under  the  trees.  He  was  interested  in  the  pretty 
booklets  which  Pentiah  was  selling.  Books  always 
had  an  attraction  for  Puniah.  Years  after,  when 
he  was  an  ordained  preacher,  he  had  accumulated 
a library  of  Telugu  tracts  and  books,  as  many  as 
were  to  be  had.  The  fewness  of  the  books  gave 
evidence  of  the  paucity  of  Christian  Telugu  litera- 
ture. But  Puniah  was  proud  of  his  library,  till 
one  day,  before  any  one  observed  it,  the  white 
ants  came  and  ate  it  all.  Later  he  bought  of  a 
mission  family,  for  a few  rupees,  a “meat-safe,” 
made  of  teak-wood,  which  the  white  ants  cannot 
eat,  and,  as  he  explained  to  me,  “ iron  windows  all 
around,”  by  which  I understood  wire-netting.  In 
this  piece  of  furniture,  made  to  keep  food  from 
flies  and  insects  and  beetles,  Puniah  felt  that  his 
new  library  would  be  safe.  With  his  love  for 
books  even  then  Puniah  readily  agreed  to  take 


HIS  MOTHER’S  CURSE 


87 


a number  of  tracts  away  with  him,  to  sell  them 
for  Pentiah  in  the  villages  where  he  went  to  trade 
in  hides.  Before  he  left,  the  two  men  went  to  the 
bungalow,  and  Pentiah  introduced  Puniah  to  the 
Dora  as  a man  who  is  living  like  a Christian  and 
is  willing  to  sell  tracts.  The  Dora  invited  him 
to  come  to  Ongole  to  school,  and  he  said  he  would 
come. 

This  invitation  was  repeated  several  times  as 
Puniah  came  and  went  on  trade.  He  agreed 
every  time  that  he  would  come,  but  the  trading 
instincts  were  strong  within  him  ; he  hesitated 
because  he  had  plans  for  accumulating  rupees. 
One  day  he  came  with  a bandy-load  of  goat-skins 
to  Ongole,  and,  as  usual,  went  to  see  the  Dora. 

He  said,  “ How  are  you,  Puniah  ? ” 

With  the  affirmative  nod  of  the  head  common 
among  the  Telugus,  Puniah  said,  “ I am  well.” 
“How  much  money  did  you  get  this  time?” 

“ I got  thirty  rupees  ; ” and  he  proudly  rolled  the 
silver  out  of  the  red  cloth  which  he  had  tied  tightly 
around  his  waist. 

The  Dora  held  out  his  hand  and  took  them,  and 
said  : “ This  is  the  fine  for  your  wavering  words. 


188  FROM  NASRIAH  TO  CHRIST 


Four  times  you  have  told  me  you  are  coming 
to  school,  and  you  have  not  done  it.  Salaam.” 
And  the  Dora  went  into  the  bungalow. 

But  Puniah  did  not  go.  He  stood  outside  and 
watched  the  Dora  walking  about  inside.  Twice 
he  came  to  the  door  and  asked,  “ Why  do  you 
not  go  ? ” 

“ I want  my  money.” 

Finally,  the  Dora  called  him,  took  him  by  the 
shoulder,  gave  him  a kindly  shake  which  almost 
took  the  young  man  off  his  feet,  but  pleased  him 
exceedingly.  “ Here  is  your  money.  Will  you 
come  to  school  ? ” 

“ I will  come.” 

But  the  Dora  called  his  preacher,  and  said : 
“Jonathan,  this  young  man  lied  to  me  four 
times.  He  now  says  he  will  come  to  school.  If 
he  does  not  come — you  are  witness — you  must 
deliver  him  over  to  me.  Write  down  his  name.” 
Jonathan  wrote  his  name,  and  he  went  home. 

After  this  Puniah  was  restless.  He  sold  his 
cattle,  paid  his  debts,  and  when  everything  was 
ready,  and  he  was  planning  to  start  for  Ongole, 
his  wife,  Subbamah,  said,  “ I will  not  go.”  Now, 


HIS  MOTHER’S  CURSE 


189 

Subbamah  was  a good-looking  young  woman,  and 
she  liked  to  adorn  herself  with  beads  around  her 
neck  and  bangles  on  her  arms.  When  they  were 
married  the  Madiga  Dasiri  had,  according  to  cus- 
tom, taken  the  talibottu  from  a pile  of  rice  and 
handed  it  to  Puniah  to  tie  around  Subbamah’s 
neck,  in  the  presence  of  all  their  relatives,  as  the 
sign  of  marriage.  The  talibottu  was  of  the  size  of 
a coin,  very  thin,  but  made  of  gold.  Her  other 
ornaments  had  very  little  of  gold  or  silver  in  their 
composition,  but  they  looked  well. 

It  seems  in  the  early  days,  when  the  first  con- 
verts among  the  women  saw  that  the  Dorasani 
did  not  wear  bangles  or  beads,  they  thought  it  was 
part  of  the  Christian  religion  to  do  without  these 
ornaments.  Bangarapu  Thatiah’s  wife,  Satyamah, 
broke  her  bangles,  and  wherever  she  and  her 
husband  went  in  those  days  it  was  remarked  that 
when  they  preached  in  the  Rajayogi  sect  they 
wore  silver  rings,  but  now  they  had  nothing. 

The  glass  bangles  which  the  women  wear  are 
not  merely  ornaments : they  show  that  the  wearer 
is  not  a widow.  Among  the  Brahmins,  when  a 
man  dies  his  relatives  take  away  from  his  widow 


190  FROM  NASRIAH  TO  CHRIST 


all  the  jewels  she  wears.  Sometimes  they  are  torn 
from  her  cruelly.  I think  it  must  be  in  imitation 
of  this  custom  among  the  twice-born  Aryans  that 
the  Madigas  take  the  widow  to  the  new-made 
grave  of  her  husband  and  let  the  Madiga  Dasiri 
with  a stick  break  the  glass  bangles  on  her  arm, 
so  that  the  pieces  fall  upon  the  ground. 

It  happened  during  the  early  years  of  the  Mis- 
sion that  the  wife  of  one  of  the  preachers  went  to 
a village  where  she  was  well  known,  her  arm  bare 
of  the  customary  glass  bangles.  “ Go  away,”  said 
the  women  to  her ; “ we  do  not  want  your  God. 
When  you  were  here  before,  your  husband  was 
living.  Now  look  at  your  arm — your  bangles  are 
gone.  What  has  your  new  God  done  for  you?” 
After  this,  it  seems,  the  Missionary  and  his  wife 
told  the  women  to  keep  their  bangles,  because 
they  saw  that  a social  custom  was  involved,  with 
which  it  was  not  well  to  interfere. 

Puniah’s  wife,  Subbamah,  had  evidently  heard 
of  this,  and  she  said  she  did  not  want  to  go  about 
without  her  jewels.  But  Puniah  saw  that  her 
mother  and  grandmother  would  not  hear  of  the 
plan  of  letting  her  go  with  him  to  Ongole.  He 


HIS  MOTHER’S  CURSE 


191 

went  alone.  After  six  months  he  returned  for 
Subbamah.  The  mother  and  grandmother  cried, 
and  made  a great  noise  in  the  village.  But  people 
said  : “ What  trouble  is  there  ? She  goes  with  her 
husband.”  Subbamah  said,  “ I am  going.”  When 
they  were  resting  under  a tree,  ten  miles  out  of 
Ongole,  Puniah  said  to  Subbamah — as  he  pointed 
to  a large  bracelet  on  each  arm  and  several  toe- 
rings,  all  made  of  a kind  of  pewter,  “ These  will 
not  look  well  in  Ongole.”  She  said,  “ Then  take 
them  away.”  Her  bangles  she  kept.  With  con- 
siderable pride  Puniah  took  her  to  say  salaam  to 
the  Dora  and  Dorasani,  and  they  said,  “ She  is  a 
nice  woman.” 

The  years  passed,  and  Puniah  became  a preacher 
who  showed  ability  to  carry  every  additional  re- 
sponsibility that  was  laid  upon  him.  Subbamah 
had  little  children  about  her,  but  her  mother 
helped  her  take  care  of  them  while  she  taught 
in  the  school  which  she  and  Puniah  had  started. 
One  day  a visitor,  Kollum  Ramiah,  came  to  them, 
who  was  in  trouble.  He  believed  in  Jesus  Christ, 
but  most  of  the  members  of  his  family  were 
against  him. 


192  FROM  NASRIAH  TO  CHRIST 


Puniah  had  been  in  this  man’s  village,  and  had 
been  invited  to  his  house.  Wherever  he  went 
in  the  village,  whether  he  talked  to  a group  of 
women  pounding  rice  or  spoke  to  the  children 
at  play,  Ramiah  had  followed  him.  In  the  even- 
ing he  had  killed  a fowl  and  given  it  to  his  wife, 
saying,  “ Make  a good  curry  for  our  guest.”  And 
he  heard,  where  he  sat,  how  the  old  mother 
grumbled  and  said,  “ Is  this  man  our  relative 
that  you  should  prepare  such  good  food  for  him  ? ” 
That  night  Ramiah  trimmed  the  wick  of  the  little 
oil-lamp,  poured  in  a plentiful  supply  of  cocoa-nut 
oil,  and  placed  it  on  a post  in  a sheltered  corner, 
where  the  wind  could  not  play  with  the  flame. 
The  rest  went  to  sleep,  but  Puniah  and  Ramiah 
sat  together  till  dawn,  and  talked  about  this  new 
religion.  And  Ramiah  said:  “I  believe  in  Jesus 
Christ.  All  I have  done  thus  far  to  get  salva- 
tion was  useless.” 

Ramiah’s  wife  was  on  his  side;  otherwise  he 
stood  alone  in  his  family.  But  she  too  was  full 
of  trouble.  Her  husband’s  mother  told  her  in 
spiteful  words  that  she  was  to  blame  for  all  the 
evil  which  was  coming  upon  them.  Why  did  she 


HIS  MOTHER'S  CURSE 


193 


not  tell  her  husband  that  she  would  leave  him 
if  he  joined  those  Christians  ? But  her  husband 
saw  the  pressure  brought  to  bear  upon  her.  He 
said  to  her,  in  the  presence  of  the  whole  family : 
“If  you  will  come  with  me,  I am  glad — come.  If 
you  do  not  want  to  come,  then  you  must  stay,  but 
I shall  not  stay  with  you.  On  your  account  I am 
not  willing  to  lose  the  salvation  of  my  soul.” 
With  a sense  of  great  relief  she  said  : “Where  you 
go,  I shall  go  too.  Why  should  I stay  where  you 
are  not  ? ” No  one  could,  after  this,  put  the  blame 
upon  her. 

When  Ramiah  saw  that  his  baptism  would 
make  him  an  outcast  in  his  own  family,  the  hope 
came  that  perhaps  some  of  his  wife’s  relations 
would  unite  with  him.  He  made  a journey  of 
sixty  miles  on  foot,  and  was  kindly  received  by  his 
wife’s  uncle  and  brothers.  They  belonged  to  the 
Nasriah  sect,  and,  therefore,  looked  leniently  on  the 
step  which  Ramiah  was  about  to  take.  They  said, 
“ Come  with  us  to  the  annual  feast  at  Tipran- 
takamu  ; another  branch  of  the  family  living  far- 
ther west  will  meet  us  there,  and  together  we  will 
hear  what  you  have  to  tell  us.” 


W.S.S. 


13 


194  FROM  NASRIAH  TO  CHRIST 


The  journey  was  undertaken  ; and  under  a large 
banyan  tree  in  Tiprantakamu  the  family  sat  down 
together  for  a council.  Ramiah  announced  boldly, 
“ There  is  no  other  way  to  salvation  but  through 
Christ.  Why  should  we  continue  to  follow  false 
roads  ? ” 

The  uncle  of  his  wife,  by  reason  of  his  age  and 
dignity,  was  the  head  of  the  whole  family.  He  re- 
plied, “Nasriah  told  us  to  follow  him  like  children, 
and  he  would  lead  us  on  the  way  to  salvation.” 
Ramiah  said  : “You  do  not  follow  Nasriah  either. 
He  said,  * Do  not  worship  idols.’  But  you  still 
bow  to  Poleramah  and  Mahalakshmi.” 

His  wife’s  eldest  brother  looked  at  the  matter 
from  a different  point  of  view.  He  said  : “ That 
Christian  religion  may  be  the  true  religion,  but 
we  cannot  bear  it.  Nasriah  said,  ‘Do  not  drink 
sarai,  do  not  steal,  do  not  commit  other  sins  ’ ; but 
no  one  asks  us  whether  we  are  living  by  Nasriah’s 
rule.  If  we  become  Christians  we  shall  have  to 
walk  carefully.  It  is  too  hard.  How  can  a 
man  live  by  the  Christian  rule?” 

There  was  a murmur  of  approval  from  the 
family  circle.  It  was  certainly  more  convenient 


HIS  MOTHER’S  CURSE 


195 


to  remain  in  the  Nasriah  sect.  The  Christian 
standard  of  living  seemed  too  severe. 

Ramiah  appealed  to  them  to  give  up  their  idol 
worship  and  come  with  him.  But  the  discussion 
was  losing  its  interest  for  them.  There  was  talk- 
ing back  and  forth  to  no  purpose. 

Finally,  the  aunt  of  Ramiah’s  wife  spoke.  She 
was  a shrewd  woman,  and  was  accustomed  to 
being  heard  whenever  she  had  a remark  to  make, 
which  occurred  frequently.  She  said  : “ We  have 
good  food  to  eat  now,  because  we  bow  to  Poler- 
amah  and  Ankalamah.  If  we  stop  bowing  before 
them  we  may  have  nothing  to  eat  but  a little 
porridge  with  pepper  sauce  poured  over  it.” 

This  was  a practical  solution  of  the  question 
which  pleased  every  one.  Several  rose  up  and 
stretched  themselves  as  a sign  that  they  considered 
the  discussion  ended.  Ramiah  said,  “ Then,  for 
the  sake  of  your  food,  you  are  willing  to  lose  your 
souls.”  And  he  too  rose  to  go,  for  he  knew  that 
he  had  failed. 

On  his  way  home  Ramiah  visited  Puniah  and 
talked  the  matter  over  with  him.  Puniah  told 
him  of  men  who,  like  him,  were  outcasts  for  a 


196  FROM  NASRIAH  TO  CHRIST 


time,  but  whose  families  finally  came  with  them. 
Ramiah  was  full  of  hope  when  he  found,  on  his 
arrival  at  home,  that  his  father  and  two  younger 
brothers  listened  to  him  gladly.  But  his  father 
was  a meek  and  quiet  man,  and  feared  his  wife, 
and  his  brothers  hesitated  and  looked  to  him  to 
take  the  first  step.  Ramiah  felt  the  time  had  come 
to  act.  He  went  to  Ongole  and  was  baptized. 

As  he  approached  his  village  on  his  return  from 
Ongole,  he  found  his  wife  sitting  by  the  wayside, 
her  little  boy  asleep  in  her  arms.  She  thought 
he  might  be  returning  about  this  time,  and  sat 
there  waiting  for  him.  " What  shall  we  do  ? ” she 
said ; “ your  mother  is  full  of  anger,  and  says  she 
will  not  let  you  come  into  the  house.” 

“ Never  mind,”  was  the  calm  reply  ; “ we  shall 
find  a place  somewhere.”  They  slowly  walked  to 
the  house,  and  found  the  mother  in  front  of  it, 
pounding  rice  for  the  evening  meal.  When  she 
saw  her  eldest  son,  and  noticed,  as  he  took  off 
his  turban,  that  the  juttu  was  gone,  she  said,  in  a 
voice  choked  with  fierce  emotion, — 

“ I brought  you  forth  and  cared  for  you,  in  the 
hope  that  in  my  old  age  I should  be  cared  for  by 


HIS  MOTHER’S  CURSE 


197 


you.  You  have  gone  on  a road  on  which  we  shall 
not  follow  you.  Henceforth  I shall  not  eat  food 
that  comes  from  your  hands.  Go  away ! You 
are  to  me  as  those  who  are  dead  ! ” 

Ramiah  had  too  long  been  a man  of  weight  in 
his  walks  in  life  to  submit  to  oppression  now. 
With  a firm  step  he  walked  into  the  house  as  one 
who  has  his  home  there.  His  younger  brothers 
had  neglected  their  few  acres  of  ground  during 
his  absence.  He  started  out  to  work  early  next 
morning.  No  one  dared  interfere  with  him.  But 
the  rules  of  caste  were  stronger  than  he.  When 
the  family  ate,  he  could  not  eat  with  them  ; the 
food  for  him  and  his  wife  was  put  on  one  side. 
The  village  people  objected  to  letting  him  draw 
water  from  their  well,  lest  he  pollute  it,  and  they 
all  fall  sick.  He  had  to  dig  a little  well  for  him- 
self, where  happily  he  soon  struck  water.  Those 
days  dragged  heavily  and  wearily. 

But  the  mother’s  harsh  rule  could  not  endure. 
Her  younger  sons  were  baptized,  and  she  dared 
not  repeat  her  curse  when  they  returned  home 
shorn  of  their  juttus.  The  old  father  lay  sick,  and 
death  was  approaching.  His  sons  knew  that  his 


198  FROM  NASRIAH  TO  CHRIST 


soul  was  thirsting  for  every  word  they  could  tell 
him  of  the  Christ ; but  he  dared  not  mention  the 
source  of  his  peace  and  joy  for  fear  that  his  wife 
might  speak  harshly  to  him.  He  died  with  a 
quiet  faith  and  trust  in  Jesus  of  Nazareth. 
Ramiah  and  one  of  his  brothers  went  to  Ongole 
to  school,  the  youngest  stayed  at  home  to  support 
his  mother.  Outwardly  unyielding,  she  was  yet 
glad  to  have  some  one  at  home  on  whom  she 
could  lean. 

A few  years  had  passed  when  it  happened  that 
the  youngest  son  journeyed  to  see  his  two  brothers 
at  Ongole.  While  there  together,  word  came  to 
them  that  their  mother,  after  a short  illness,  had 
died.  The  three  men  looked  at  each  other.  Each 
knew  the  thought  of  the  other.  But  Ramiah  hid 
his  face  in  his  hands  and  wept : “ She  said  that  I 
was  as  one  dead  to  her,  and  no  food  would  she 
accept  at  my  hands  in  her  old  age.  She  has  died 
with  her  sons  far  distant,  alone,  as  she  said  she 
would  be.” 

There  was  pain  in  Ramiah’s  heart  whenever  he 
thought  of  his  mother.  Tears  came  to  his  eyes 
when  he  told  of  her  curse. 


A BATTLE-GROUND  FOR  TWO 
RELIGIONS 


Through  Much  Tribulation 
Not  Peace,  but  a Sword 
The  Persecutor  and  His  End 


THROUGH  MUCH  TRIBULATION 


The  wife  of  Yendluri  Rutnam  noticed  that  her 
husband  frequently  stopped  his  work  for  a few 
minutes,  bent  his  head  over  his  folded  hands,  and 
said  as  to  himself : “ O God,  I am  a sinner.  Give 
me  wisdom  that  I may  find  the  way.”  She  bowed 
with  him.  He  had  told  her  all  he  had  seen  of  the 
Christians  in  a distant  village,  where  he  had  gone 
on  trade,  and  she  said,  “ It  must  be  a good  re- 
ligion.” 

Bangarapu  Thatiah  came  one  day  to  inquire 
after  the  spiritual  welfare  of  his  near  kinsman. 
For  some  reason  Rutnam  closed  his  heart  against 
him,  and  put  him  off  by  saying : “ Perhaps  the 
Christian  sect  and  the  Nasriah  sect  are  only 
the  same  thing.  I shall  remain  where  I am.” 
Rutnam  was  proud  of  the  fact  that  he  had 
been  a disciple  of  the  Nasriah  sect  for  ten  years. 


201 


202 


A BATTLE-GROUND 


He  had  been  at  Tiprantakamu  several  times  at 
the  annual  feast,  and  had  faithfully  learned  the 
hymns  and  verses  he  had  been  taught,  and  fully 
believed  that  it  must  be  true  that  there  is  only 
one  God.  Yet  he  joined  others  of  the  village 
people  when  they  went  to  worship  the  swami 
Gurapudu,  who  was  supposed  to  have  his  home  in 
a margosa  tree  at  one  end  of  the  village. 

The  old  men  of  the  village  said  that  there  once 
lived  a man,  Gurapudu,  who  died  suddenly  in  a 
very  mysterious  way.  As  usual,  the  relatives  took 
an  earthen  pot  full  of  cooked  rice  to  the  grave, 
and  laid  it  in  two  heaps.  Each  in  turn  took  a 
handful  of  the  rice  from  one  heap  and  put  it  on 
the  other,  to  go  through  the  form  of  giving.  Then 
they  sat  down  at  a distance  to  watch.  Had  the 
crows  come  and  eaten  they  would  have  known 
that  Gurapudu  thought  kindly  of  them.  The 
Madigas  believe  that  as  the  crows  fly  away  the 
soul  of  the  dead  is  liberated  from  the  body,  and 
on  the  fluttering  wings  of  the  crows  hastens  to 
some  good  place. 

But  at  the  grave  of  Gurapudu  the  crows 
did  not  come  to  eat,  and  thus  his  relatives 


THROUGH  MUCH  TRIBULATION  203 


knew  that  his  soul  was  hovering  near  the  earth, 
and  that  he  would  do  them  harm.  Several  had 
seen  peculiar  forms  hover  about  a margosa  tree 
in  the  night,  and  it  was  thought  best  to  place  a 
stone  under  it,  paint  it  with  saffron,  make  large 
red  dots  on  it,  and  then  worship  it.  No  matter 
what  form  Gurapudu  might  assume,  if  thus 
honoured  and  appeased,  he  could  not  go  forth 
to  injure  the  village.  The  fear  of  Gurapudu  had 
passed  from  fathers  to  sons,  for  whenever  calamity 
of  any  kind  befell  the  village,  it  was  regarded  as 
the  work  of  the  fiend  in  the  margosa  tree. 

Thatiah  had  told  Rutnam  frankly  what  he 
thought  of  the  swami  Gurapudu.  He  met  with 
quiet  resistance  on  this  point  as  on  every  other, 
but  Thatiah  would  not  be  baffled.  When  a 
preacher  came  from  Ongole,  he  told  him  to  go  to 
Rutnam’s  village,  and  not  to  pass  his  kinsman  by. 
He  was  a man  of  tact  and  education,  and  had 
known  service  in  one  of  the  older  mission  stations 
before  he  became  the  right-hand  man  of  the  On- 
gole Missionary  in  the  early  days  of  the  movement 
among  the  Madigas.  The  whole  village  gathered 
to  hear  him.  Before  he  had  finished,  Rutnam 


204 


A BATTLE-GROUND 


knew  wherein  the  difference  between  the  Nas- 
riah  sect  and  Christianity  lay.  Moreover,  the 
strange  preacher  had  made  sarcastic  remarks 
about  the  swami  Gurapudu,  and,  while  all  were 
laughing,  had  asked  permission  to  go  to  the 
margosa  tree  near  by,  take  the  stone,  and  hurl 
it  away  into  a ditch,  with  all  its  red  and  yellow 
markings.  The  swami  had  not  taken  notice,  for 
nothing  happened  to  the  preacher. 

Later  in  the  day  he  had  a private  talk  with 
Rutnam,  and  asked  him  some  very  searching 
questions  : “ Are  you  a sinner,  or  one  who  has 
accumulated  merit?  Was  your  worship  of  swa- 
mis  good  or  bad  ? You  have  bowed  to  idols, 
have  been  stealing  grain  when  your  Sudra  master 
looked  the  other  way,  have  worked  on  Sunday, 
have  eaten  carrion  ; and  now  what  do  you  think  of 
your  work  ? ” Rutnam  agreed  that  it  was  all  bad, 
and  that  he  must  turn  away  from  it.  The  preacher 
was  satisfied  that  there  was  conviction  here. 

Soon  after  this  Rutnam  was  ordered  by  the 
village  Karnam  to  carry  a letter  to  a distant 
village.  He  had  to  drop  all  other  work  and  go 
on  this  errand,  nor  could  he  expect  to  be  paid  for 


THROUGH  MUCH  TRIBULATION  205 


it.  Some  generations  back  the  family  had  re- 
ceived a grant  of  four  acres  of  land  from  the 
Rajah  of  Venkatagiri,  and  in  turn  for  this  they 
had  to  stand  ready  to  do  the  bidding  of  the 
Karnam.  It  was  Yetti-service,  a service  exacted 
under  provisions  that  closely  resemble  the  serf- 
dom of  the  middle  ages.  Rutnam  tied  the  letter 
into  his  headcloth  and  went  his  way.  Arrived 
at  Petloor,  he  approached  the  Government  Office, 
where  the  Brahmin  clerks  and  officials  sat  over 
their  task.  He  dare  not  go  near,  for  great  would 
be  their  wrath  if  even  the  air  they  breathed  were 
polluted  by  the  presence  of  a poor  Madiga.  But 
he  stood  afar,  holding  high  the  letter  he  had 
brought,  and  soon  a Sudra  servant  came  to  take 
it  from  him.  They  signified  to  him  that  he  might 
go,  and,  after  resting  in  the  shade  of  a tree,  he 
took  a roundabout  way  home. 

His  object  was  to  see  his  distant  kinsman, 
Pullikuri  Lukshmiah,  who,  he  had  heard,  had 
lately  been  baptized,  and  had  much  to  say  about 
the  worthlessness  of  Rajayogi  Gurus.  Lukshmiah 
received  him  with  every  mark  of  friendship. 
Sticks  were  soon  burning  under  a pot  of  water, 


206 


A BATTLE-GROUND 


that  he  might  bathe  after  his  journey.  Odours 
of  spicy  curry  came  from  the  place  where  the 
women  were  cooking  the  evening  meal ; and,  as 
they  sat  under  the  tamarind  tree,  in  the  cool  of 
the  evening,  the  two  men  talked  together  about 
many  things.  Lukshmiah  saw  that  some  one 
must  speak  an  authoritative  word.  He  asked, 
“Have  you  believed  in  Jesus  Christ?”  With  a 
firm  voice  Rutnam  replied,  “ I have.”  “ Have  you 
been  baptized?”  “No.”  “Then  go  to  Ongole 
this  very  month  and  be  baptized,  lest  if  you  die 
soon  you  should  go  to  hell.” 

Their  belief  in  spirits  and  demons,  in  fiends  and 
matris,  gives  to  the  more  thoughtful  minds  among 
the  Madigas  an  intense  desire  to  make  sure  that 
they  are  on  the  way  to  a blessed  existence  beyond 
the  grave.  The  Christian  conception  of  a heaven 
and  a hell  was  readily  absorbed  by  them.  The 
hope  of  the  one  and  the  fear  of  the  other  are  a 
powerful  influence  in  their  moral  conduct  and 
religious  fervour.  And  thus  the  injunctions  of 
Lukshmiah  brought  to  an  end  the  wavering  of 
Rutnam,  and  shaped  the  destiny  of  one  of  the 
choice  workers  of  the  Ongole  mission. 


THROUGH  MUCH  TRIBULATION  207 

There  was  an  element  of  refinement  in  the 
appearance  of  Rutnam.  His  features  were  regular 
and  of  a noble  outline.  Every  passing  emotion 
found  expression  in  his  eyes ; hence  the  look  of 
anxiety  that  became  habitual  in  his  later  years, 
stamped  there  by  the  many  hardships  of  his  life. 
When  met  by  kindness  his  face  could  light  up 
with  a rare  smile.  He  was  a man  who  in  return 
for  kindness  could  give  devotion. 

During  the  first  few  years  of  his  ministry  he 
often  took  his  wife  with  him,  to  help  him  as  he 
preached  in  the  villages  here  and  there.  This 
became  impracticable.  As  the  converts  multi- 
plied the  vexation  of  the  Sudras  grew.  Trouble 
was  heaped  upon  the  preacher  and  his  wife,  till 
Rutnam  said,  “It  is  not  safe  for  a woman  to 
face  these  insults.”  Henceforth  he  went  alone. 

A social  revolution  on  a small  scale  was  in 
progress  during  those  early  years.  The  Madiga 
population  was  fast  being  Christianized,  and  in 
consequence  there  was  a breaking  away  from 
economic  and  social  relations  that  had  held  the 
Madigas  during  many  centuries.  There  was 
novelty  in  the  desire  of  the  Christians  to  have 


208 


A BATTLE-GROUND 


one  day  in  seven  for  purposes  of  rest  and  worship. 
To  many  a Madiga  it  had  been  an  unknown 
accomplishment  to  remember  the  days  of  the 
week.  It  raised  him  decidedly  in  the  scale  of 
human  beings  when  he  became  sufficiently  en- 
lightened to  know  the  days  as  they  passed.  He 
found  opportunity  to  cultivate  moral  fibre  when 
he  began  to  insist  that  he  must  have  one  day  in 
seven  reserved  for  the  worship  of  his  God. 

To  the  Sudra  landholder  it  was  a cause  of 
constant  irritation  to  be  obliged  to  reckon  with 
this  new  spirit  of  independence  on  the  part  of  the 
Madiga.  He  was  accustomed  to  call  his  serfs  to 
work  whenever  he  required  their  service.  Day 
and  night,  seed-time  and  harvest,  they  were  to 
be  ready  to  obey  his  call.  He  did  not  look  upon 
their  desire  for  a Sabbath  of  rest  as  a legitimate 
demand.  It  seemed  to  the  Sudra  usurpation  of 
authority  pure  and  simple.  The  Karnam  shared 
in  the  vexation  of  the  Sudras,  for  when  he  called 
the  Christian  Yettis  to  work  on  Sunday,  or  start 
on  long  journeys  with  heavy  burdens  on  their 
backs,  they  asked  to  be  allowed  to  go  the  next  day. 

There  was  tension  in  all  the  region  round  about. 


THROUGH  MUCH  TRIBULATION  209 


Whenever  some  village  matri,  some  fiend  or  de- 
mon, was  to  receive  special  worship,  the  question 
arose  as  to  the  course  which  should  be  pursued 
with  the  rebellious  Madigas.  It  was  part  of  the 
service  which  they  owed  to  the  village  community, 
on  the  principle  of  mutual  service,  that  they  should 
beat  the  drums  when  there  was  a festival  to  the 
swamis.  The  Madigas  had  to  furnish  the  leather 
for  the  drums.  Who  should  beat  them  but  they  ? 
To  refuse  to  perform  this  old-time  duty  meant 
loss  to  them.  They  received  the  carcases  of 
the  animals  which  were  slaughtered  to  please 
the  gods  in  question  as  remuneration  for  their 
special  service. 

The  trouble  culminated  in  the  village  Balla- 
pudy,  one  of  the  villages  in  Rutnam’s  charge. 
The  Madigas  rebelled  against  ancient  institutions, 
and  in  consequence  the  organization  of  the  village 
community  was  used  against  them.  The  potter  is 
the  village  servant,  who  makes  the  earthen  pots 
that  break  so  easily,  and,  therefore,  need  frequent 
replacing.  The  washermen  likewise  serve  the 
village.  They  have  their  group  of  houses  in  the 
village,  and  when  the  village  tank  is  dry,  their 


w.s.s. 


210 


A BATTLE-GROUND 


donkeys  take  the  clothes  where  there  is  sufficient 
water.  There  was  interdependence  of  various 
kinds.  If  by  the  order  of  the  Munsiff  and  Kar- 
nam  the  mutual  helpfulness  of  the  community 
was  withdrawn  from  the  Madigas,  their  isolation 
was  of  a peculiarly  trying  nature. 

The  Karnam  of  Ballapudy  was  not  a man  of 
strong  personality.  But  he  knew  that  he  had 
power  to  harass,  and  decided  to  take  the  in- 
itiative, and  show  all  the  region  round  about  how 
to  deal  with  these  recreant  Madigas.  Forthwith 
the  village  washermen  were  told  not  to  wash  for 
the  Christians  ; the  potter  was  told  not  to  sell  pots 
to  them  ; their  cattle  were  driven  from  the  common 
grazing-ground  ; the  Sudras  combined  in  a refusal 
to  give  them  the  usual  work  of  sewing  sandals  and 
harness  ; at  harvest-time  they  were  not  allowed  to 
help,  and  thus  lost  the  supply  of  grain  which  the 
Sudras  had  always  granted  them.  They  were 
boycotted  and  ostracized  on  every  hand.  The 
Karnam  called  the  heathen  Madigas  from  else- 
where to  do  the  work  of  the  village,  and  the 
Christians  had  no  alternative  but  to  go  to  distant 
villages  to  find  a little  work,  and  earn  a scant  pit- 


THROUGH  MUCH  TRIBULATION  21 1 


tance.  This  went  on  for  a season.  Rutnam 
suffered  with  the  distress  of  his  people. 

A day  of  reckoning  came  when  the  Ongole 
Missionary  pitched  his  camp  in  a grove  near  the 
village  Ballapudy.  He  rode  through  the  bazaar 
of  the  village,  Rutnam  and  others  of  the  Chris- 
tians with  him,  made  happy  and  full  of  courage  by 
his  presence.  On  one  side  of  the  road — his  arms 
deferentially  folded  over  his  chest — stood  the 
Karnam.  Rutnam  pointed  him  out  to  the  Dora  : 
“ That  is  the  man  ” ; and  the  Karnam  made  many 
and  deep  salaams.  The  Dora,  however,  seemed 
not  to  notice  him.  Then  the  Karnam,  already 
full  of  fear,  grew  very  anxious,  and  wondered  what 
would  happen  to  him  ; for  he  had  heard  that  the 
Ongole  Missionary  was  strong  in  protecting  these 
Madigas. 

Walking  at  a little  distance  from  the  horse,  the 
Karnam  now  began  to  excuse  himself.  A large 
crowd  had  gathered  of  all  castes.  There  were 
Mohammedans  too.  Ever  since  the  tent  had  ar- 
rived, and  the  lascars,  who  came  with  it,  had  told 
the  people  the  hour  when  they  expected  their 
Dora  the  bazaar  of  the  village  Ballapudy  had 


212 


A BATTLE-GROUND 


been  filling  with  people  who  had  come  in  from 
villages  near  by.  Many  were  interested  in  the 
issue.  If  the  Dora  failed  to  influence  the  Karnam, 
it  would  go  hard  with  the  Madigas  in  all  that 
region;  for  other  Karnams  stood  ready  to  resort 
to  stringent  measures. 

But  here  was  the  Dora  not  even  looking  in  the 
direction  of  the  anxious  Karnam ; the  little  group 
of  persecuted  men  and  women  gathered  closely 
around  him.  He  did  not  even  seem  to  hear  the 
Karnam’s  excuses,  till,  finally,  insisting  on  being 
heard,  the  Karnam  said  : “ I did  not  do  that  work. 
There  are  no  witnesses.” 

Then  the  Dora’s  horse  stood  still,  and  it  turned 
in  the  direction  of  the  trembling  Karnam.  It  was 
a fine  white  animal ; the  preachers  in  the  old  days 
were  proud  of  it.  Once  in  the  early  days,  when 
the  mission  was  in  debt,  the  Dora  offered  to  sell 
his  horse,  that  he  might  give  the  money  to  his 
preachers,  but  they  pleaded  for  the  horse.  “Never 
mind  about  us,”  they  said,  “ but  keep  the  horse. 
What  should  we  say  to  all  who  stand  ready  to  per- 
secute us  if  they  asked  us  whether  our  Dora  no 
longer  rides  a horse?” 


THROUGH  MUCH  TRIBULATION  213 


As  Rutnam  told  me  the  story  of  the  encounter 
between  the  Dora  and  the  Karnam,  he  remem- 
bered specially  the  Dora’s  horse.  “ How  would  it 
have  looked  if  our  Dora  had  walked  through  all 
that  crowd  on  his  feet  ? ” And  one  word  of  the 
Missionary  was  treasured  in  Rutnam’s  heart  with 
peculiar  gratitude.  The  Dora  said  to  the  Karnam : 
“ You  say  there  are  no  witnesses.  The  Christians 
have  told  me  what  you  did.  The  preacher,  who  is 
like  my  ‘ Tamurdu,’  has  told  me.  Would  my 
younger  brother  lie  to  me?  You  are  the  liar, 
not  my  preacher.”  Rutnam’s  face  trembled  with 
emotion  when  he  repeated  to  me,  several  times 
over,  that  before  all  that  crowd  of  men  who  were 
ready  to  injure  and  destroy  him  and  his  little 
flock  the  Dora  called  him  his  “ Tamurdu.” 

Like  a school-boy  the  Karnam,  in  deferential 
attitude,  promised  to  cease  from  evil-doing.  Not 
once,  but  twice  he  had  to  promise  that  he  would 
not  persecute  the  Christians  any  more,  for  the 
Dora  was  afraid  “ of  his  lying  words.”  He  and  all 
who  stood  there  heard  to  their  surprise  that  these 
Madigas  were  God’s  children,  and  in  God’s  special 
care.  “ Their  God,”  the  Missionary  said,  “ is  not 


214 


A BATTLE-GROUND 


like  your  swamis,  who  hear  not  and  see  not 
When  these  poor  men  pray,  God  is  not  far  off. 
Beware  how  you  touch  them.” 

Deeply  humiliated,  the  Karnam  went  to  his 
house.  All  had  seen  that  he  was  a coward,  who 
could  oppress  those  in  his  power,  but  trembled  in 
the  presence  of  one  who  could  call  him  to  account 
for  his  actions.  Many  a man  in  that  region, 
whose  heart  was  full  of  anger  against  the  Chris- 
tians, decided  to  let  others  persecute  them  if  they 
would,  but  that  he  would  hold  aloof. 

Some  years  had  passed,  when  the  priests  of  the 
goddess  Ankalamah  decided  that  the  annual  feast 
at  her  temple  in  the  village  Muktimulla  should  be 
held  with  unusual  pomp.  There  had  been  cattle- 
disease  of  late,  and  some  of  the  wells  were  running 
dry.  They  said  the  goddess  was  probably  angry 
because  she  had  not  of  recent  years  been  honoured 
sufficiently,  and  they  hinted,  too,  that  the  Madigas 
and  their  refusal  to  beat  the  drums  had  fanned  the 
displeasure  of  the  goddess.  Now  Ankalamah  is 
one  of  the  ten  great  Saktis,  a form  of  Parvati, 
consort  of  Siva.  The  Karnam  of  the  village  Muk- 
timulla was  a Brahmin,  seventy  years  of  age,  and 


MADIGAS  WITH  THEIR  DRUMS. 


THROUGH  MUCH  TRIBULATION  215 


a worshipper  of  Siva.  He  decided  that  Anka- 
lamah  should  have  the  drums  beaten  by  the 
Madigas  at  her  annual  feast,  just  as  she  had  seen 
it  done  during  many  a century.  Moreover,  she 
should  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  the  rebellious 
Madigas  humiliated  as  they  deserved. 

When  the  feast  was  in  course  of  preparation, 
and  crowds  of  worshippers  had  gathered,  the 
Karnam  sent  for  the  Christians  to  come  and  beat 
the  drums.  They  returned  a message  that  their 
religion  forbade  them  to  have  anything  to  do  with 
idol-worship.  Five  village  constables  were  then 
sent  to  fetch  five  of  the  leading  Christians.  They 
were  brought  by  force.  Water  was  poured  over 
their  heads  until  it  was  thought  the  uncleanness 
of  their  Christian  religion  had  been  washed  away. 
Their  heads  were  shaved,  and  only  a lock  on  top 
of  their  heads — the  juttu — was  left,  that  the  swami 
might  dwell  therein.  And,  finally,  their  foreheads 
were  marked  like  those  of  the  other  worshippers. 
The  drums  were  forced  into  their  hands,  and  for 
three  days  they  had  to  endure  the  shame  of  their 
position,  while  large  crowds  came  to  worship  the 
goddess. 


2 l6 


A BATTLE-GROUND 


Rutnam  hastened  to  the  spot.  These  men  were 
members  of  his  flock.  But  what  could  he  do  ? 
What  could  be  done  even  if  they  should  unite  in 
resistance  ? They  were  overpowered  by  numbers. 
The  five  men  had  gathered  up  the  hair  as  it  fell 
under  the  razor,  and  had  tied  it  into  their  cloth. 
As  soon  as  release  came,  they  hastened  to  Ongole 
and  told  their  tale  to  the  Missionary,  showing  the 
hair  in  their  cloth,  taking  off  their  turbans  to  show 
the  bald  heads  that  represented  to  them  mutilation. 

A case  was  filed  in  the  criminal  court.  The 
English  magistrate  of  Ongole  tried  the  case  in 
person.  He  asked  the  five  Christians  whether 
they  considered  themselves  to  have  been  insulted. 
They  said,  “ It  was  as  if  our  throats  had  been 
cut ; our  shame  was  so  great.”  Rutnam  and  two 
Christian  teachers  were  the  witnesses  on  the  one 
side,  a crowd  of  false  witnesses  stood  on  the  other 
side.  The  legal  proceedings  took  some  time,  and 
then  judgment  was  passed.  Since  the  Karnam 
was  an  old  man,  he  was  spared  the  three  years 
of  imprisonment  which  he  deserved.  He  had 
to  pay  a fine  of  thirty  rupees,  and  was  imprisoned 
for  three  months.  As  he  was  a Brahmin,  imprison- 


THROUGH  MUCH  TRIBULATION  217 


ment  meant  pollution  of  the  very  worst  kind.  He 
died  four  days  after  his  release.  His  son  took  his 
place.  When  I asked  Rutnam  whether  the  son 
was  better  than  the  father,  he  replied,  “ Can  a 
tiger  have  young  jackals  as  children  ? ” 

Thus  the  government,  which  has  made  itself,  in 
a measure,  the  vehicle  of  Christian  principles,  took 
no  notice  of  Ankalamah’s  desire  to  see  the  drums 
forced  into  the  hands  of  defenceless  Madigas. 
The  violation  of  the  law  of  religious  toleration 
carries  with  it  a maximum  punishment  of  five 
years’  imprisonment.  That  an  aged  Brahmin,  in 
respected  position,  should  have  been  deeply  humili- 
ated because  he  insulted  the  religious  belief  of 
five  men,  who  were  of  the  outcasts,  and  in  former 
days  considered  too  low  to  come  within  the  same 
jurisdiction  that  applied  to  the  members  of  other 
castes,  was,  indeed,  an  indication  that  a new  day 
had  dawned  for  the  remnant  of  an  aboriginal 
tribe  that  had  known  nothing  but  abject  servitude 
for  many  centuries. 


NOT  PEACE,  BUT  A SWORD 


There  were  four  brothers  in  the  Nambadi 
family.  Krishniah  was  the  eldest ; upon  him  fell 
the  chief  care  of  the  family  when  his  father  died. 
Anandiah,  the  second,  was  the  pride  of  the  family. 
He  knew  more  than  was  ordinarily  expected  of 
the  Mala  priest,  and  his  learning  gave  distinction 
to  the  priestly  functions  of  the  brothers.  Venka- 
tiah,  next  to  Anandiah  in  age,  was  quiet  and 
retiring,  and  ever  ready  to  do  the  bidding  of 
Anandiah.  The  youngest  was  Chinna  Krishniah. 
In  honour  of  the  god  Krishna,  one  of  the  incarna- 
tions of  Vishnu  worshipped  by  the  family,  it  was 
thought  well  to  have  two  sons  by  the  name  of 
Krishniah.  As  is  customary  in  such  cases,  the 
older  brother  was  called  “ big  Krishniah,”  the 
younger  “ little  Krishniah.” 


NOT  PEACE,  BUT  A SWORD  219 


Anandiah  was  the  most  active,  and  at  the  same 
time  most  restless  member  of  the  family.  He  was 
ever  on  the  alert  for  something  new  to  learn  and 
to  investigate.  He  had  early  learned  to  read,  and 
was  always  ready  for  new  books.  He  listened  to 
the  singers  who  relate  the  events  of  the  past  in 
a peculiar  mixture  of  the  legendary  and  historic. 
If  he  met  any  one  whose  religious  views  differed 
from  his  own  he  was  ready  to  argue  with  him. 
With  his  enquiring  spirit  to  urge  him  on,  it  is  not 
surprising  that  Anandiah  had  a religious  history, 
even  before  he  became  a Christian. 

The  Nambadi  family  were  Malas.  They  were 
thrifty,  and  were  counted  a prominent  family  in  the 
Mala  community.  Their  ancestors,  so  far  as  they 
knew,  had  always  been  priests.  The  Vishnuite 
reformer,  Ramanuja,  who  lived  in  the  twelfth 
century,  is  said  to  have  founded  seven  hundred 
and  fifty  priesthoods  in  Southern  India,  among  all 
castes  and  classes.  It  is  not  impossible  that  this 
Mala  family  derived  their  hereditary  priesthood 
directly  or  indirectly  from  Ramanuja. 

Anandiah,  not  satisfied  with  the  routine  of  a 
priest  of  the  Ramanuja  sect,  joined  in  addition 


220 


A BATTLE-GROUND 


the  Chermanishta  sect.  The  brothers  were  little 
pleased  with  this  new  phase  in  Anandiah’s  career, 
but  he  went  his  way  and  kept  his  own  counsel. 
Silence  and  mystery  are  the  characteristics  of  this 
sect.  It  was  a relief  to  all  concerned  when  Anan- 
diah,  probably  by  sheer  force  of  reaction,  turned  to 
the  Rajayogi  sect,  and  became  a follower  of  the 
Yogi  Pothuluri  Veerabramham. 

That  he  could  pass  from  one  sect  to  another 
without  exciting  comment  among  those  whom  he 
and  his  brothers  served  as  priests  gives  evidence 
of  the  elasticity  and  extreme  toleration  of  Hindu- 
ism, so  long  as  the  institution  of  caste,  which  is 
the  basis  of  social  organization,  is  left  untouched. 
After  all,  to  the  thoughtful  Hindu,  Vishnu  and 
Siva  and  the  many  lesser  gods  of  the  Hindu 
Pantheon  are  but  manifestations  of  the  one  great 
deity,  the  Parameswara.  This  toleration  does 
not  extend  to  the  religion  of  Christ ; the  up- 
heaval which  ensues  where  it  enters  is  dreaded. 
It  is  inimical  to  caste,  and  thus  revolutionizes 
social  relations.  Its  pure  theism,  with  the  divine 
incarnation  of  the  God-man,  Jesus  Christ,  raises  the 
mind  above  the  need  of  an  image,  and  thus  pro- 


NOT  PEACE,  BUT  A SWORD  221 


duces  a radical  change,  which  places  a gulf  be- 
tween the  Christian  and  the  members  of  various 
sects  of  Hinduism. 

As  Anandiah  went  about  among  the  people 
in  his  office  as  priest,  he  was  often  asked  about 
the  attractively  bound  booklets  which  the  faithful 
Pentiah  from  Ongole  was  selling  everywhere. 
Though  always  ready  to  investigate  a new  belief, 
Anandiah  in  this  case  had  strong  misgivings.  He 
took  the  tracts,  looked  them  over  carefully,  until 
he  had  become  fully  aware  of  the  contents,  and 
then  told  the  owners  that  these  were  bad  books, 
and  whether  it  would  not  be  best  to  tear  them 
into  pieces.  Thus  he  publicly  tore  up  many  a 
tract  which  Pentiah  had  sold  in  that  region. 

One  day  Anandiah  met  Pentiah  in  the  way,  and 
in  a somewhat  hostile  spirit  asked  him  concern- 
ing himself  and  his  religion.  Now  Pentiah  was 
not  the  man  to  face  Anandiah  in  argument.  But 
he  had  faith,  and  he  had  conviction  ; he  told 
Anandiah,  with  all  the  force  of  his  simple,  devout 
nature,  that  idolatry  was  evil,  and  that  there  was 
no  salvation  in  Hindu  sects.  He  spoke  of  Jesus 
Christ  as  a living  reality.  His  belief  in  Him  as 


222 


A BATTLE-GROUND 


an  indwelling  presence  was  the  secret  of  the  power 
which  this  simple-hearted  man  wielded  over  men. 

Pentiah  was  of  Mala  extraction,  and  the  Mala 
priest,  Anandiah,  could,  therefore,  talk  with  him 
about  the  social  aspects  of  the  Christian  mission 
that  had  lately  been  established  in  Ongole.  He 
had  heard  that  a number  of  Madigas  had  already 
joined  it ; what  became  of  social  relations  in  a 
mixture  of  castes?  Outcasts  equally,  the  Malas 
and  Madigas  hold  aloof  from  each  other.  They 
have  separate  wells ; they  do  not  eat  together, 
nor  do  they  inter-marry. 

It  was  not  necessary  to  convince  Anandiah  that 
caste  was  a system  which  could  not  be  upheld  as 
containing  divine  truth.  He  had  seen  it  attacked 
in  the  midnight  orgies  of  the  Chermanishta  sect, 
and  he  knew  that  the  Yogi  Pothuluri  Veerabram- 
ham  had  prophesied  a day  when  caste  distinction 
would  cease.  He  wanted  to  know  what  practical 
solution  Christianity  had  to  offer.  Pentiah  told 
him  that  there  was  no  caste  in  the  mission  com- 
pound at  Ongole,  that  all  drank  from  the  same 
well,  nor  did  they  hesitate  to  eat  together.  If 
any  one  was  found  to  cling  to  the  old  distinction 


NOT  PEACE,  BUT  A SWORD  223 


between  Mala  and  Madiga,  he  was  rebuked.  It 
was  a new  life,  of  which  Pentiah  thus  gave  him 
a glimpse.  Anandiah  did  not  commit  himself, 
for  his  thoughts  were  seething  within  him,  and 
Pentiah  went  his  way. 

It  happened  soon  after  this  conversation  that 
the  four  brothers  went  to  a village  at  some  dis- 
tance to  perform  the  Bhagvatum.  Anandiah 
entered  upon  the  undertaking  in  a half-hearted 
way.  Six  rupees  was  the  price  agreed  upon  for 
the  night’s  work,  and  he  was  determined  to  go 
through  with  his  part.  They  began  after  dark  in 
the  evening,  and  continued  till  dawn.  A fine, 
moonlight  night  had  been  chosen.  Torches  were 
held  where  the  actors  were  in  full  view.  The 
people  from  neighbouring  villages  had  come,  and 
sat  on  the  ground,  in  the  large  open  space  in  front 
of  the  village,  ready  to  enjoy  themselves  during 
their  days  of  leisure,  for  the  harvest  was  over  and 
seed-sowing  time  had  not  yet  come. 

The  brothers  had  been  joined  by  relatives  who 
lived  some  twenty  miles  away.  The  performance 
required  ten  actors.  Anandiah  played  the  chief 
part ; he  recited  the  accompanying  passages  of 


224 


A BATTLE-GROUND 


the  drama  as  they  passed  from  one  act  to  the 
next.  The  Telugu  of  the  text  was  much  inter- 
mingled with  difficult  Sanscrit  expressions,  and  he 
often  stopped  to  explain  the  meaning.  The  main 
episodes  in  the  life  of  Krishna  were  the  subject 
of  the  play.  The  mother  and  wives  of  Krishna 
played  an  important  part,  and  the  brothers,  there- 
fore, wore  the  apparel  of  women  and  decked 
themselves  with  the  jewellery  of  women.  It  was, 
in  the  Hindu  sense,  a religious  play,  yet  the 
buffoon  was  not  wanting,  and  his  part  of  the 
performance  brought  the  play  to  a low  level. 

At  last  the  cocks  in  the  village  began  to  crow, 
and  the  birds  in  the  trees  stirred  with  busy 
chatter  ; the  darkness  of  night  shaded  into  the 
grey  tints  of  dawn  ; the  .little  oil-lamps  that  had 
been  placed  here  and  there  were  extinguished,  and 
both  actors  and  spectators  lay  down  for  a few 
hours  of  sleep.  Anandiah  went  away  to  one  side, 
sat  down  under  a tree,  and  busied  himself  reading 
the  Gnanabodha , a book  which  Pentiah  had  left 
in  his  hands.  Several  gathered  around  him,  and 
he  read  to  them,  and  explained  also  what  he  had 
read. 


NOT  PEACE,  BUT  A SWORD  225 


Noon  came,  and  the  feast  which  concluded  the 
performance  of  the  Bhagvatum  was  ready.  Pedda 
Krishniah  was  to  perform  puja  before  the  idols 
of  Krishna,  and  then  all  were  to  eat.  The  sleepers 
rose,  and  the  brothers  went  to  call  Anandiah. 
He  said,  “ I am  not  coming.”  “ Why  will  you 
not  come?”  His  reply  sent  consternation  to  the 
hearts  of  the  brothers  : “ I have  even  now  believed 
in  Jesus  Christ,  and  will  no  longer  have  anything 
to  do  with  idols,  nor  will  I eat  anything  where 
idols  have  been  near  the  food.” 

Anandiah  had  suffered  deeply  in  mind  all  that 
night,  and  the  turning-point  had  now  come.  The 
brothers  grew  angry.  He  had  told  them  of  his 
intention  before  the  people,  and  they  asked  him 
right  there,  “ Are  you  going  into  that  Madiga 
sect?”  “Yes.”  “Are  you  going  to  eat  with 
them  ? ” “I  shall  eat.”  “ Then  we  shall  not  let 
you  into  the  house.”  “ I shall  not  come  if  you 
don’t  want  me.” 

Anger  was  out  of  place  in  the  face  of  such 
determination.  The  brothers  hid  their  dismay  as 
best  they  could,  and  directed  their  attention  to 
the  present  moment.  Anandiah  had  done  the 

15 


W.S.S. 


226 


A BATTLE-GROUND 


hardest  part  of  the  work,  and  it  was  now  their 
duty  to  see  that  he  had  to  eat.  They  said, 
“Before  we  worship  the  idols,  we  will  send  you 
of  the  food  ; eat  it  wherever  you  like  ; even  though 
you  join  that  sect  you  shall  not  go  hungry.” 
He  suspected  that  more  mantras  would  be  said 
over  his  food  than  over  the  other.  His  disgust 
over  night  had  grown  beyond  endurance.  He 
replied,  “ I will  have  nothing  to  do  with  that 
food.” 

They  wanted  to  know  where  he  would  eat.  He 
pointed  to  the  house  of  Malas  who  were  friends, 
and  said  they  would  give  him  to  eat.  “ But,”  the 
brothers  said,  “ that  is  not  nice  food ; we  shall 
send  you  nice  meat  curry.”  This  consideration 
had  no  power  to  move  Anandiah.  “ Even  though 
you  send  nice  food,  I shall  not  touch  it.  I prefer 
porridge  to  what  you  can  give  me.”  Baffled  in 
their  intention,  they  muttered,  “ Very  well ; eat 
what  you  like,”  and  went  away  and  left  him. 

The  brothers  felt  more  like  crying  than  like 
eating  the  feast  that  was  first  offered  to  the  idols 
and  then  placed  before  them.  Heavy  losses  were 
before  them  if  Anandiah  failed  them.  The  part 


NOT  PEACE,  BUT  A SWORD  227 


which  he  took  in  the  performance  of  the  Bhag- 
vatum  required  more  knowledge  than  they  pos- 
sessed. After  they  had  eaten,  they  sat  down 
under  a tree  and  waited  the  coming  of  Anandiah. 
“ You  have  lost  a very  nice  meal,”  they  said  as  he 
joined  them.  “ And  you  have  brought  punishment 
upon  yourselves  by  eating  yours,”  was  his  reply. 

But  they  were  anxious  to  know  their  fate. 
When  Anandiah  belonged  to  the  Chermanishta 
sect,  the  brothers  knew  that  midnight  orgies  of  a 
very  doubtful  nature  took  place  twice  a year ; but 
they  knew  not  what  they  were,  and  asked  no  ques- 
tions, for  Anandiah  still  played  the  Bhagvatum. 
They  were  willing  again  to  bear  with  his  belief, 
but  the  question  was : Would  he  play  the  Bhag- 
vatum after  he  had  become  a Christian  ? Pedda 
Krishniah,  therefore,  asked  him  : “ When  you  were 
in  the  Ramanuja  sect  you  played  the  Bhag- 
vatum ; in  the  Chermanishta  sect  you  played ; 
you  became  a Rajayogi,  and  yet  played.  Now 
that  you  have  become  a Christian  are  you  going 
to  play?”  Anandiah  replied,  “I  shall  never 
again  play.” 

The  brothers  then  turned  to  the  financial  aspect 


228 


A BATTLE-GROUND 


of  the  question.  They  had  been  asked  to  per- 
form in  several  villages.  Gain,  aggregating  one 
hundred  rupees,  was  in  sight.  Would  he  remain 
with  them  for  one  month  more  ? He  refused  to 
join  them  even  for  one  day. 

They  then  tried  threats.  “We  shall  influence 
your  wife  so  that  she  will  not  hear  your  word.” 
But  threats  had  no  effect  on  Anandiah ; he  heeded 
them  not. 

Once  more  they  appealed  to  him  : “ You  are  a 
well-read  man  ; you  write  poetry  ; but  now  are 
you  gone  mad.  How  do  you  expect  to  make 
your  living  ? ” Anandiah  was  weary  ; he  said  : 
“ Don’t  ask  me  that ; God  will  show  me.  If  He 
does  not  see  fit  to  feed  me,  I’ll  die.” 

Argument,  threat,  and  appeal  had  failed  to  pro- 
duce any  effect.  The  brothers  were  silent.  It 
was  the  lull  that  precedes  the  heavier  outburst  of 
the  storm.  They  had  been  proud  of  Anandiah, 
nor  could  the  angry  excitement  of  the  occasion 
wholly  hide  the  brotherly  affection  that  shone 
from  their  eyes  as  they  asked  him  very  quietly, 
“ Then  you  will  not  remain  with  us  ? ” He  shook 
his  head. 


NOT  PEACE,  BUT  A SWORD  229 


The  four  brothers  rose  to  go  home.  Two  of 
them  hastened,  so  as  to  gain  time  to  influence 
Anandiah’s  wife  before  his  arrival.  He  had 
married  her  about  six  months  previously,  soon 
after  he  had  become  a Rajayogi.  She  was  four- 
teen years  of  age,  old  enough  to  meet  him  with 
every  display  of  anger  when  he  appeared.  In  the 
excited  fashion  of  Hindu  women  she  cried,  “ I 
don’t  want  you  any  more.  I shall  go  back  to 
my  parents ! ” The  brothers  tried  to  prevent 
Anandiah’s  entrance  into  the  house,  but  he 
quietly  came  in  as  usual.  They  told  the  mother 
not  to  give  him  food,  and  she  agreed  that  she 
would  not;  but  secretly  she  gave  him  all  he 
wanted. 

Anandiah  was  now  an  outcast.  The  brothers* 
told  the  village  people  that  he  had  gone  mad. 
As  the  days  passed  Pedda  Krishniah’s  heart  grew 
very  hard  within  him.  He  went  to  the  Malas  in 
other  villages  and  said  : “ Anandiah  has  joined  that 
Christian  sect,  has  eaten  with  the  Madigas,  and 
a devil  is  in  him.  If  he  asks  you  for  water,  do 
not  give  it  to  him.”  He  never  made  salaam  to 
Anandiah,  and  if  he  saw  him  coming  one  road 


230 


A BATTLE-GROUND 


he  took  the  other.  The  mother  remained  firm  in 
befriending  Anandiah.  She  was  first  a mother 
and  then  a Hindu.  Anandiah  was  her  son,  and 
she  insisted  upon  giving  him  an  abundant  share 
of  well-cooked  food  just  as  before,  no  matter  how 
much  she  might  dislike  his  new  belief.  Her 
presence  restrained  the  angry  passions  of  her 
sons. 

Though  he  had  lost  his  previous  employment, 
Anandiah  would  not  eat  the  bread  of  idleness,  and, 
therefore,  began  to  get  the  daily  supply  of  grass 
for  the  cattle  that  belonged  to  the  family.  This 
was  work  which  had  been  done  by  the  women  of 
the  household.  In  turn  he  demanded  his  food. 
The  brothers  knew  that  in  justice  he  could  claim 
as  his  own  the  largest  share  of  their  possessions, 
and  that  his  self-allotted  task  was  unworthy  of  his 
position  among  them.  But  as  they  went  without 
him  here  and  there  to  perform  their  priestly  rites, 
they  realized  how  much  they  had  depended  upon 
him,  and  daily  their  vexation  grew,  for  people 
asked  them  about  the  madness  that  possessed 
Anandiah.  In  time  it  was  noticed  that  Venkatiah 
was  very  friendly  with  Anandiah ; they  often 


NOT  PEACE,  BUT  A SWORD  231 


talked  together,  and  seemed  to  be  of  one  mind. 
The  mother,  too,  was  seen  to  lean  toward  Anan- 
diah. 

Pedda  Krishniah  and  Chinna  Krishniah  now 
found  that  they  were  on  one  side,  and  Anandiah, 
Venkatiah,  and  their  mother  on  the  other  ; yet 
they  were  the  ones  who  kept  the  family  income 
to  something  approaching  their  former  thrift. 
They  grew  very  bitter,  and  finally  they  joined 
together  for  a quarrel.  Their  charge  was  that 
Anandiah  and  Venkatiah  were  not  helping  them 
in  their  work  as  Gurus ; that  the  Bhagvatum 
could  no  longer  be  performed  by  the  brothers  ; 
that  they  were  preaching  this  Christian  religion 
all  the  time,  and  besides  were  doing  nothing. 
They  wanted  to  know  how  they  expected  to 
live.  They  had  their  grievance  ; but  the  other 
side,  too,  felt  that  they  had  borne  to  the  utmost, 
and  declared  that  the  two  Krishniahs  had  gone 
too  far  in  thus  beginning  an  open  quarrel.  They 
signified  their  intention  of  leaving.  Venkatiah’s 
wife  was  already  in  Morampudy.  Anandiah’s 
wife,  who  continued  in  angry  reserve,  was  ready 
to  go  with  them,  for  her  father’s  house  was  there. 


232 


A BATTLE-GROUND 


Thus  they  withdrew,  and  the  two  Krishniahs 
had  the  field  to  themselves. 

Anandiah  and  Venkatiah  had  now  turned  away 
from  the  old  life,  and  the  new  lay  before  them 
had  they  chosen  to  enter  upon  it.  They  left 
their  wives  in  Morampudy  and  journeyed  to 
Ongole  to  see  the  Missionary.  They  talked  with 
him  and  with  some  of  his  preachers,  and  profited 
by  the  experience  of  others.  The  Missionary 
respected  their  motives  when  they  finally  told 
him  that  they  could  not  be  baptized  now — they 
must  first  win  over  the  members  of  their  house- 
hold, lest  their  hearts  grow  still  harder.  With 
faith  strengthened  and  courage  fresh,  they  turned 
their  faces  homeward,  though  they  knew  what 
their  reception  would  be.  Rumour  that  they 
had  in  fact  been  baptized  had  preceded  them, 
and  the  two  Krishniahs  had  been  told  in  several 
places  that  they  were  no  longer  acceptable  as 
Gurus.  Nothing  daunted,  Anandiah  and  Ven- 
katiah now  proceeded  according  to  a definite 
plan.  They  went  to  the  villages  round  about 
to  preach,  and  sometimes  stayed  away  for  several 
days.  There  was  no  lack  of  food  wherever  they 


NOT  PEACE,  BUT  A SWORD  233 


went ; they  were  Christian  preachers  even  before 
their  baptism. 

The  two  Krishniahs  said,  “ They  are  growing 
more  spiritually-minded  ; let  us  take  away  their 
books.”  Wherever  they  could  find  one  they 
stealthily  took  it  away ; but  the  fountain  of 
spiritual  life  in  their  brothers  had  a source  far 
beyond  the  books  which  were  now  so  often 
missing.  It  was  not  long  before  people  began 
to  come  to  the  house  to  ask  Anandiah  to  read 
to  them.  This  roused  the  fierce  jealousy  of  the 
two  Krishniahs.  They  invariably  took  the  Rama - 
yana , or  the  Bhagavata-Purana , and  sat  near  by, 
calling  Anandiah’s  listeners  to  come  away  and 
hear  the  wonderful  tales  of  their  own  gods. 

The  home  of  the  Nambadi  family  had  now 
become  a battle-ground  for  two  religions.  The 
two  Krishniahs  knew  they  were  losing  ground, 
yet  did  their  best  to  hold  their  own,  and  they 
enjoyed  all  the  advantages  which  conservatism 
grants.  They  had  the  past  on  their  side  ; their 
belief  and  their  practices  had  the  sanction  of 
centuries  of  usage.  Anandiah  and  Venkatiah 
were  innovators,  heretics,  whose  end  in  view  was 


234 


A BATTLE-GROUND 


an  upheaval  of  social  relations  and  the  sub- 
version of  old-time  faith.  Their  attitude,  how- 
ever, was  characterized  by  meekness.  Anandiah, 
whose  word  had  formerly  been  respected  and 
feared,  was  now  silent  when  treated  as  one  whose 
presence  was  merely  endured.  The  mother  had 
occasion  to  tell  Chinna  Krishniah  that  Anandiah 
was  his  elder  brother  and  knew  more  than  he, 
and  that  he  should  not  forget  this,  even  though 
Anandiah  was  a Christian. 

Months  passed,  and  then  it  was  noticed  that 
the  joy  of  anticipation  shone  in  the  faces  of  Anan- 
diah and  Venkatiah.  The  reason  for  this  joyous- 
ness was  that  the  Ongole  Missionary  was  coming, 
and  would  camp  in  the  grove  near  their  village. 
In  those  days,  thirty  years  ago,  it  was  not  neces- 
sary to  send  a messenger  here  and  there  to  ask 
people  to  come  and  hear  what  the  Missionary 
had  to  say.  The  word  spread,  and  was  rapidly 
passed  from  village  to  village.  From  the  time 
that  the  tent  arrived  and  was  unloaded  from  the 
carts  and  pitched  ready  for  its  occupant,  Anan- 
diah and  Venkatiah  were  scarcely  seen  at  home. 
The  mother,  with  Pedda  Krishniah’s  wife,  went 


NOT  PEACE,  BUT  A SWORD  235 


and  listened  with  an  open  heart.  The  two  women 
believed  all  that  the  Missionary  said  about  Jesus 
Christ,  but  they  carefully  avoided  those  who  might 
question  them  about  their  belief,  and  went  home 
and  were  silent.  The  mother  could  not  bear  to 
allow  anything  to  rise  up  as  a barrier  between 
herself  and  her  children;  Pedda  Krishniah’s  wife 
was  afraid  of  her  husband. 

The  two  Krishniahs  said,  “ Everybody  is  going  ; 
let  us  go  too  ” They  held  themselves  aloof,  and 
proudly  stood  on  one  side,  for  they  realized  that 
it  was  well  known  how  they  had  treated  their 
brother  Anandiah,  and  thought  that  proud  in- 
difference was  the  attitude  most  becoming  under 
the  circumstances.  But  Anandiah  was  bent  on 
efforts  of  a conciliatory  nature.  At  the  proper 
time  he  called  the  Missionary’s  attention  to  them  : 
“ Those  are  my  brothers.”  The  Missionary  spoke 
kindly  to  them  : “ Why  do  you  not  believe  in  Jesus 
Christ  ? ” The  brothers  showed  by  their  reply 
that  the  spirit  of  Christ  had  not  yet  touched  their 
hearts.  They  asked,  “ How  are  we  to  earn  our 
living  ? ” The  Missionary  pointed  to  the  birds 
fluttering  here  and  there  in  the  trees  under  which 


236 


A BATTLE-GROUND 


the  tent  had  been  pitched.  He  said,  “ Does  not 
God  feed  the  birds  of  the  air  and  the  fish  in  the 
sea  ? ” 

They  would  not  have  been  willing  to  admit 
it,  but  the  two  Krishniahs  went  home  in  a gentler 
mood  and  in  a kinder  frame  of  mind  than  they 
had  known  for  some  time.  Pedda  Krishniah  had 
some  thoughts  about  the  Dora.  He  had  never 
seen  one  before  near  by ; but  he  felt  certain  that 
if  this  Dora  had  stayed  in  his  own  country  he 
would  not  have  lacked  food  and  money.  This 
religion  could  not,  therefore,  be  worthless  if  this 
Dora  thought  enough  of  it  to  go  about  preaching 
it.  None  of  these  thoughts  did  he  mention  to 
Chinna  Krishniah. 

Anandiah  and  Venkatiah  could  not  separate 
themselves  from  the  Missionary  and  those  who 
were  with  him.  They  followed  the  camp  to  the 
next  stopping-place,  and  not  a word  that  the 
Missionary  spoke  were  they  willing  to  lose.  When 
at  last  they  arrived  at  home,  it  was  chiefly  Chinna 
Krishniah  who,  with  some  of  the  village  people, 
made  light  of  their  zeal.  “Why  do  you  come 
back  ? ” they  asked.  “ Did  not  your  Guru  take 


NOT  PEACE,  BUT  A SWORD  237 


you  straight  to  heaven  ? ” Pedda  Krishniah  said 
nothing.  The  mother  busied  herself  with  the  food, 
but  quietly  told  Chinna  Krishniah  that  his  jests 
at  the  expense  of  Anandiah  were  out  of  place. 
He  asked,  “ Are  you,  too,  taken  with  the  same 
madness  ? ” The  village  people,  wherever  Anan- 
diah went,  had  many  questions  to  ask  about  the 
Dora,  his  horse,  his  servants,  his  tents,  about  his 
manner  of  living,  and  his  sayings  and  doings. 
Anandiah  found  that  the  Dora’s  short  stay  among 
them  had  given  him  a degree  of  prestige  in  that 
region,  of  which  he  was  not  slow  to  take  advan- 
tage. 

Pedda  Krishniah,  meantime,  had  had  an  experi- 
ence which  has  always  seemed  to  him  a remark- 
able one.  It  happened  before  the  Missionary  came 
on  tour.  He  had  taken  Chinna  Krishniah  with 
him  to  a village  at  some  distance,  where  a man 
had  died,  and  the  family  had  requested  him  to 
perform  the  usual  ceremonies  on  the  twelfth  day 
after  the  death,  in  order  to  rid  the  house  of  all 
uncleanness.  Pedda  Krishniah  bathed  in  the  pre- 
scribed way,  and  then,  in  the  presence  of  the  whole 
family,  he  spread  a cloth  over  a large  wooden 


238 


A BATTLE-GROUND 


seat,  piled  rice  upon  it,  and  on  the  rice  he  placed 
the  idols  sacred  to  the  worship  of  Vishnu.  He 
conducted  puja  before  the  idols.  The  savoury 
food  which  had  been  prepared  from  the  sheep 
and  several  fowls  that  had  been  killed,  of  rice  and 
pappoo,  and  the  various  spices  that  constitute  a 
good  curry,  accompanied  by  a pot  of  the  intoxi- 
cating sarai,  was  offered  to  the  idols  with  the 
prescribed  mantras.  There  was  burning  of  in- 
cense and  much  feasting  and  drinking  that  night 
until  all  lay  down  to  sleep. 

At  sunrise  one  after  another  rose,  and  Pedda 
Krishniah  went  to  the  place  where  the  idols  had 
been  left  standing  on  the  pile  of  rice  ready  for 
the  concluding  ceremonies.  But,  behold,  the 
largest  of  the  idols,  nine  inches  high,  made  of  a 
mixture  of  copper,  silver,  and  gold,  was  gone! 
It  was  a Venkateswarurdu  idol,  and  had  been 
handed  down,  with  the  other  nine  idols,  from 
father  to  son.  Pedda  Krishniah  called  the  heads 
of  the  family  and  said,  “ How  is  this  ? The 
largest  idol  is  gone ! ” They  looked  everywhere. 
It  was  not  to  be  found  near  the  house ! They 
looked  farther,  and  finally  found  it  on  a pile  of 


NOT  PEACE,  BUT  A SWORD  239 


rubbish  not  far  from  the  house.  A dog  had  come 
overnight,  while  all  were  sleeping  soundly  after 
their  feasting,  had  bitten  the  idol  to  see  whether 
it  was  eatable,  and  had  carried  it  away  in  its 
teeth. 

Fear  fell  upon  the  household.  “ Perhaps,”  they 
said,  “ the  swami  is  angry,  and  will  not  save  us 
from  the  evil  that  may  fall  upon  us.”  They  pre- 
pared tamarind  water,  and  Pedda  Krishniah 
washed  and  cleansed  the  idol  in  it.  He  conducted 
elaborate  puja  before  it ; much  incense  was  burned 
and  many  mantras  were  said,  and  it  was  hoped 
that  the  swami,  Venkateswarurdu,  would  take  no 
offence  at  the  insult  that  had  been  offered. 

As  the  two  Krishniahs  walked  home,  the  bundle 
of  rice  which  was  the  priestly  due  hung  over  their 
shoulders,  Pedda  Krishniah  had  many  thoughts, 
which,  however,  he  kept  to  himself.  He  reasoned 
in  this  wise  : “ If  we  have  a swami  to  which  we 
make  puja,  can  the  dog  carry  it  off  in  its  teeth  ? 
We  put  up  a swami  to  give  it  food  ; it  can’t  say, 
It  is  not  enough.  It  can’t  say  to  the  dog,  Don’t 
carry  me  off.  How  can  such  a swami  save  me  ? 
This  is  mere  illusion.” 


240 


A BATTLE-GROUND 


Pedda  Krishniah  was  a changed  man  after  this 
experience.  The  dog  that  carried  away  his  Ven- 
kateswarurdu  idol  in  its  teeth  caused  his  belief 
in  idols  to  totter.  But  he  gave  no  outward  sign 
of  the  fact  that  his  intellect  no  longer  furnished 
assent  to  the  hardness  of  his  heart  and  the  deter- 
mination of  his  will.  The  conflict  was  there,  and 
the  Missionary’s  visit  only  hastened  the  crisis. 
He  would  not  yield,  however,  until  he  found  that 
he  could  no  longer  perform  the  offices  of  a priest, 
even  though  he  would.  Of  this  he  soon  became 
convinced. 

The  two  Krishniahs  were  asked  to  conduct  a 
household  ceremony  in  a neighbouring  village. 
While  on  their  way  they  talked  together.  Pedda 
Krishniah  said  : “ What  do  you  really  think  of 
this  Christian  religion  ? Is  it  good  or  bad  ? ” 
His  brother  said:  “Why  do  you  ask  me?  Say 
yourself.”  Pedda  Krishniah  then  expressed  his 
conviction  that  it  must  be  a true  religion.  “ We 
are  making  fun  of  Anandiah  and  Venkatiah,” 
he  said,  “ but  we  are  doing  wrong.  What  they 
are  doing  is  right”  It  was  in  a very  peculiar 
frame  of  mind  that  he  proceeded  to  conduct  the 


NOT  PEACE,  BUT  A SWORD  241 


puja.  As  he  took  up  each  idol  to  put  it  in  its 
place,  he  looked  toward  Chinna  Krishniah  with 
a smile  of  contempt. 

The  household  assembled  remonstrated  : “ We 
feel  weak,  for  you  are  not  performing  the  functions 
of  your  priesthood  with  faith ! ” He  then  tried 
to  keep  up  appearances,  but  his  hands  shook,  he 
trembled  and  could  hardly  proceed.  He  won- 
dered what  would  happen,  for  he  had  never  be- 
fore thus  trembled.  He  could  not  say  more  than 
part  of  the  usual  mantras,  and  prepared  to  go 
home  earlier  than  he  was  wont.  The  village  people 
tried  to  keep  him  over  night,  but  he  refused. 
Chinna  Krishniah  was  now  in  great  sorrow.  He 
said  on  their  way  home  : “ Brother,  it  seems  you, 
too,  are  going  to  that  religion.  Then  I shall  go 
away  to  another  country.”  But  his  brother  com- 
forted him  : “ Don’t  be  afraid.  We  two  will  stay 
together  as  the  other  two  are  doing.” 

Of  the  experiences  of  the  night  that  followed, 
Pedda  Krishniah  speaks  as  follows  : “Two  men 
got  into  my  breast,  and  there  was  a big  fight  till 
morning.  Good  thoughts  came,  bad  thoughts 
came.  One  voice  said,  ‘ If  you  believe  in  Jesus 

1 6 


W.S.S. 


242 


A BATTLE-GROUND 


Christ,  you  will  be  blessed.’  Another  voice  said  : 
‘ What  will  you  get  ? Did  not  your  forefathers 
get  heaven  ? What  do  you  want  of  this  religion  ? ’ 
Thus  I went  on  the  whole  night  without  sleep- 
ing. I could  not  pray ; I could  only  say  within 
myself,  ‘ O God,  take  away  my  sins  and  let  me 
get  to  Thy  heaven.’  Towards  morning  I looked 
on  the  beam  under  the  thatch  of  the  roof  to  see 
whether  Anandiah  had  left  any  of  his  books 
there.  I took  and  read,  and  then  peace  came 
into  my  mind.” 

Pedda  Krishniah’s  struggle  was  now  ended,  but 
where  was  Anandiah  meantime  ? “ Hope  deferred 

maketh  the  heart  sick.”  Perhaps  it  was  partly 
the  strain  of  long  waiting  and  patient  endurance 
that  caused  his  physical  strength  to  ebb  low.  He 
was  sick,  and  was  staying  with  friends  in  a village 
not  far  away,  who  had  through  him  believed  in 
Jesus  Christ,  but,  like  him,  had  not  yet  been 
baptized.  Pedda  Krishniah  asked  the  mother 
on  the  morning  that  brought  him  peace,  “Where 
is  Anandiah  ? ” She  told  him,  and  there  was 
silent  reproach  in  the  tone  of  her  voice  which 
stung  him  to  the  quick. 


NOT  PEACE,  BUT  A SWORD  243 


He  went  out  on  the  road  by  which  Anandiah 
must  come,  and  ere  long  saw  him  in  the  distance, 
leaning  on  his  staff.  He,  who  had  often  avoided 
the  road  by  which  Anandiah  was  to  come,  now 
walked  towards  him  and  made  a salaam  to  him. 
Anandiah  stood  still.  Not  for  many  months  had 
Pedda  Krishniah  said  salaam  to  him.  He  looked 
at  him,  and,  behold,  the  hard  look  was  gone  from 
his  face.  He  fell  upon  his  neck  and  asked  : “ My 
brother,  how  has  God  changed  your  heart  ? How 
has  He  given  you  a mind  to  come  on  this  better 
way  ? ” They  embraced  each  other,  for  the 
brotherly  affection,  so  long  pent  up,  at  last  as- 
serted itself.  During  eighteen  months  Pedda 
Krishniah  had  had,  as  he  to-day  says,  “ a hard 
devil  within.”  By  sheer  reaction  the  tears  now 
flowed  freely  as  he  told  Anandiah  his  whole  ex- 
perience— of  the  dog  that  carried  away  the  Ven- 
kateswarurdu  idol,  of  the  hands  that  trembled 
so  that  he  could  not  perform  puja,  of  the  sleep- 
less night  when  two  men  were  fighting  within  him. 

Anandiah,  too,  had  an  experience  to  relate. 
He  had  joined  with  the  friends  with  whom  he 
was  staying  in  a prayer  that,  within  ten  days, 


244 


A BATTLE-GROUND 


Pedda  Krishniah  might  yield  and  become  a 
follower  of  Jesus  Christ.  “ Oh,  my  brother,”  he 
said,  “ for  eight  days  have  I prayed  for  you  ; 
there  were  yet  two  days.  Last  night  I had  a 
dream  that  you  and  I were  praying  together,  and 
this  morning  I could  not  stay,  I came  quickly  to 
see  whether  the  change  had  been  wrought.” 

They  went  to  the  house  together.  Anandiah 
said,  “ Bring  your  wife,  and  we  will  read  and 
pray.”  She  was  sweeping  when  he  called  her, 
but  so  glad  was  she  to  come,  she  dropped  her 
broom  and  joined  them.  The  mother  came,  glad 
and  thankful  as  such  mothers  only  can  be  whose 
abounding  love  keeps  families  united.  Venkatiah 
came.  All  in  the  house  came ; and  then  Pedda 
Krishniah  saw  how  they  had  borne  with  him  in 
long-suffering  and  kindness  these  many  months. 
He  tried  to  join  them  as  they  sang  one  of  the 
Christian  hymns  they  had  learned  ; he  listened  as 
Anandiah  read  the  seventh  chapter  in  Matthew ; 
he  could  not  pray,  but  he  knelt  while  Anandiah 
prayed. 

The  family  then  had  a talk  together.  Anan- 
diah said : “In  a few  days  Bangarapu  Thatiah 


NOT  PEACE,  BUT  A SWORD  245 


will  pass  through  here  on  his  way  to  Ongole  to 
the  monthly  meeting.  Let  us  go  with  him  and 
be  baptized.”  Pedda  Krishniah  was  not  ready. 
He  said:  “You  go.  I have  yet  to  collect  a 
quantity  of  grain  which  is  due  to  me  here  and 
there  on  account  of  the  puja  I conducted.  I’ll 
gather  that  in,  and  after  a month  I,  too,  will 
come.”  Anandiah  would  not  consent  to  this 
plan.  He  argued  with  his  brother,  and  finally 
capped  the  climax  by  asking,  " If  you  should 
die  while  gathering  this  grain,  where  would  you 
go  ? ” So  Pedda  Krishniah  agreed,  and  left  be- 
hind him  all  that  was  his  as  a Mala  priest  and 
turned  from  his  priesthood. 

The  family  was  not  yet  a united  one.  Chinna 
Krishniah  was  sorely  grieved.  At  night  he  slept 
on  one  side,  and  by  day  he  held  himself  aloof. 
He  was  planning  to  leave  his  brothers  and  to 
join  other  Mala  priests.  But  the  brothers  talked 
kindly  to  him  ; they  told  him  that  they  wanted 
to  go  to  Ongole  to  be  baptized,  and  asked  him  to 
put  away  all  anger  and  consider  the  question 
carefully.  His  heart  was  softened,  and  he  became 
the  youngest  disciple  among  them. 


246 


A BATTLE-GROUND 


Bangarapu  Thatiah  arrived  with  his  staff  in 
his  hand.  He  would  not  sit  down  and  rest  until 
he  had  heard  all.  With  his  quiet  dignity  and 
simplicity  he  said  : “ God  has  given  this.  I prayed 
for  it.” 

The  four  brothers  became  Christian  preachers. 
Three  of  them  left  home,  and  were  placed  at  the 
outposts  of  the  movement  of  the  Madigas  toward 
Christianity.  The  mother  lived  to  a ripe  old 
age  in  the  old  home  with  Pedda  Krishniah.  The 
coming  of  Christianity  had  strangely  affected  the 
lives  of  her  sons ; all  would  have  been  different 
if  they  had  remained  Mala  priests.  But  she  had 
no  regrets,  only  joy;  because  she  knew  that 
salvation  comes  through  none  other  but  Jesus 
Christ 


THE  PERSECUTOR  AND  HIS  END 


Under  the  shade  of  a tree  at  one  end  of  the 
village  bazaar  of  Kutchipudy,  a number  of  Sudras 
were  sitting  in  conversation  more  animated  than 
usual. 

“ They  will  become  like  Doras,  and  will  refuse 
to  listen  to  our  orders,”  said  one  of  the  Sudras. 

“ They  now  have  a school  as  large  as  ours. 
After  they  learn  to  read,  how  will  they  do  our 
work  ? ” said  another. 

“ I had  a bullock,”  said  a third,  “ which  was 
sick  several  weeks.  It  died,  and  1 called  the 
Madigas.  They  took  it  away  outside  the  village, 
secured  the  hide  and  buried  the  rest.  When  I 
bargained  with  them  for  the  sandals  which  they 
must  give  in  turn,  they  refused  to  give  as  much 
as  formerly.  I told  them  I gave  them  the  whole 
bullock  ; why  did  they  bury  the  meat  ? * Such 


247 


248 


A BATTLE-GROUND 


filth,’  they  said,  ‘ shall  not  come  into  our  village 
any  more.’  What  shall  we  do  with  them  ? They 
are  undoing  the  customs  of  our  fathers.” 

The  Munsiff  of  the  village,  Ballavanti  Durgiah 
Naidu,  had  thus  far  been  silent.  Now  he  took 
up  the  turban  that  lay  by  his  side,  put  it  on,  and 
rose  up  as  if  to  go.  “ I will  teach  them,”  he 
said.  “ Ten  more  have  now  gone  to  Ongole  to 
be  baptized.  When  they  return  I shall  force 
them  all  to  become  as  heretofore.” 

Durgiah  Naidu  was  a man  of  iron  will,  of  re- 
lentless harshness,  a man  who  carried  to  the 
bitter  end  what  he  had  once  begun.  Several  of 
the  Sudras  looked  at  him  as  he  rose.  They 
meant  no  ill.  They  and  their  fathers  before 
them  had  considered  themselves  in  a sense  the  pro- 
tectors as  well  as  the  employers  of  the  Madigas. 

One  said,  in  a drawling  tone  of  voice : “ They 
are  not  disrespectful.  Even  when  they  send 
word  they  cannot  come  to  work  on  Sunday,  they 
beg,  in  polite  words,  to  be  allowed  to  do  the 
w'ork  the  next  day.” 

Another,  who  had  not  noticed  the  hard  look 
in  Durgiah  Naidu’s  face,  said:  “But  where  will 


THE  PERSECUTOR 


249 


it  end  ? Soon  we  shall  have  to  look  for  some 
one  else  to  do  our  work.” 

After  a few  days  the  Munsiff,  Durgiah  Naidu 
called  ten  of  the  chief  men  in  the  Madiga  hamlet 
who  had  become  Christians.  He  said  to  them  : 
“You  have  gone  to  Ongole  and  have  been  im- 
mersed into  the  water  in  the  name  of  Jesus 
Christ.  You  are  thereby  unclean.  Unless  you 
here  again  immerse  yourselves  in  the  tank,  and 
wash  off  that  uncleanness,  we  shall  not  allow 
you  to  enter  the  village.”  The  tank  lay  between 
the  Sudra  village  and  the  Madiga  hamlet,  a short 
distance  away  from  each.  The  village  Karnam 
had  come.  The  Yettis  were  there  to  carry 
out  any  orders.  Large  numbers  of  Sudras  had 
come  to  see  what  would  happen,  for  they  knew 
that  Durgiah  Naidu  intended  to  take  extreme 
measures.  The  friends  and  relatives  of  the  ten 
Christian  men  came  running  from  the  Madiga 
hamlet,  full  of  misgivings. 

The  Christians,  though  in  fear  and  trembling, 
refused  to  do  as  the  Munsiff  had  ordered.  Their 
preacher  stood  by  and  encouraged  them  ; more 
than  this  he  could  not  do.  The  crowd  had  moved 


250 


A BATTLE-GROUND 


toward  the  tank,  and  Durgiah  Naidu  said,  “ Go 
in  there  and  dip  yourselves  under  water,  that  I 
may  know  that  the  Ongole  uncleanness  is  gone.” 
The  men  did  not  move  an  inch.  The  Munsift 
then  ordered  the  Yettis  to  put  their  long  sticks 
on  the  necks  of  the  Christians  and  push  them 
under  the  water.  They  cried  and  remonstrated, 
but  the  Munsiff  shouted : “ Dip  them  under ! 
The  uncleanness  must  go.”  Most  of  the  men 
were  pushed  forward  with  so  much  force  that 
they  fell  into  the  water.  Cruelty  was  added  to 
the  indignities  heaped  upon  them. 

This  was  not  enough  for  the  Munsiff.  His 
next  step  was  to  force  the  Christians  to  resume 
their  former  worship.  On  the  bank  of  the  tank 
there  was  a stone  idol  of  the  goddess  Poleramah. 
With  much  shouting  and  confusion  a buffalo  and  a 
goat  were  brought  and  placed  before  the  idol ; the 
Yettis  struck  the  blow,  and  the  warm  blood  flowed 
freely  over  the  idol,  much  to  the  delight,  it  was 
thought,  of  the  goddess,  whose  thirst  for  blood  is 
never  quenched.  The  Christians  were  forced  to  bow 
before  the  idol.  Some  of  the  blood  was  taken 
from  it  and  their  foreheads  marked  with  it. 


POLERAMAH  AND  HER  BROTHER. 


{Page.  25<i 


r 


THE  PERSECUTOR 


25  * 

The  horrors  of  the  occasion  lasted  all  night. 
Specially  trained  singers  had  been  engaged  to 
relate  vile  stories  about  the  goddess  Poleramah, 
accompanying  themselves  by  their  instruments. 
Intoxicated  with  sarai,  people  danced  round  the 
idol.  The  Christians  too  were  ordered  to  dance, 
and  again  they  submitted  ; their  persecutors  were 
in  a frenzy  of  excitement,  and  resistance  would 
have  meant  death.  A prospective  terror  was 
added  to  the  persecutions  of  the  hour  when  the 
Munsiff  threatened  to  drag  them  before  the 
Tahsildar  and  accuse  them  of  theft.  They  knew 
how  difficult  and  almost  impossible  it  would  be 
for  them  to  prove  their  innocence. 

The  Sudras  now  thought  that  Christianity  was 
literally  wiped  out  of  the  Madiga  hamlet.  They 
reasoned  that  if  one  of  themselves  lost  caste  in 
any  way,  all  transgressions  could  be  made  null 
and  void  if  the  priest,  after  performing  various 
ceremonies,  burnt  the  tongue  with  a golden  wire. 
To  apply  the  proceedings  of  the  caste  people  to 
those  who  were  outcasts  was  out  of  the  question. 
But  the  measures  which  had  been  taken  were 
certainly  very  rigid,  and  thus  the  subject  was 


252 


A BATTLE-GROUND 


dismissed  for  a time.  The  Christians  were  in 
constant  fear,  and  avoided  everything  that  could 
bring  their  religious  belief  into  unnecessary  pro- 
minence. They  had  told  the  Ongole  Missionary 
all  about  the  brutal  treatment  which  they  had 
received.  He  knew  how  unequal  would  be  the 
conflict  should  they  try  to  show  resistance,  and, 
therefore,  advised  them  to  keep  quiet,  pray  much, 
and  to  trust  in  God,  who  would  yet  help  them. 

Several  months  had  passed,  when  the  news  was 
spread  abroad  that  the  Missionary  was  coming  on 
tour.  It  was  well  known  that,  wherever  he 
camped,  he  asked  for  the  village  Munsiff  and  the 
Karnam.  He  was  always  polite  to  them,  and 
asked  them  to  remain  and  listen  to  what  he  told 
the  crowds  who  came  to  the  tent  about  Jesus 
Christ  and  the  great  salvation  He  had  brought  to 
men.  And  generally  the  village  officials  showed 
him  every  courtesy  in  return.  But  there  had  been 
occasions  when  the  Missionary  found  it  necessary  to 
emphasize  to  village  authorities  that  the  welfare  of 
these  despised  Madigas  was  of  importance  to  him. 

Even  before  the  tent  arrived  in  the  grove  near 
Kutchipudy  the  whole  village  knew  what  hap- 


THE  PERSECUTOR 


253 


pened  in  a neighbouring  village,  where  the  Dora 
had  his  camp.  The  Brahmins  had  come  to  him 
en  masse  to  demand  redress,  because  some  Chris- 
tians, coming  from  a distance,  had  passed  through 
their  bazaar  on  their  way  to  the  camp.  It  was  an 
old  time  custom  for  the  Madiga  to  step  far  off  to 
one  side  whenever  a Brahmin  passed,  for  even  the 
wind  that  had  swept  over  the  Madiga  was  con- 
sidered polluting  to  the  Brahmin.  The  Christians 
were  fast  outgrowing  this  aspect  of  their  former 
abject  condition.  When  the  Brahmins  that  day 
had  called  to  them  to  leave  the  road,  and  had 
stood  in  their  way  to  prevent  their  advance,  it  had 
happened  that  a Christian  woman,  by  accident, 
had  touched  a Brahmin.  Much  indignation,  there- 
fore, was  felt  in  the  little  Brahmin  community. 
No  satisfaction,  however,  was  to  be  gained  from 
the  call  on  the  Missionary.  He  told  them  that  the 
bazaar  was  a public  thoroughfare,  and  was  for  all  ; 
and  that  if  they  did  not  want  to  be  touched,  they 
must  step  to  one  side.  This,  indeed,  meant  an 
upheaval  of  the  social  relations  of  the  past ! It 
was  equivaP  t to  saying  that  a Brahmin  should 
step  aside  to  let  a Madiga  pass  ! 


254 


A BATTLE-GROUND 


There  was  great  excitement,  therefore,  in  Kutchi- 
pudy  when  the  Missionary  arrived.  He  gave  the 
morning  to  the  Christians,  and  for  the  afternoon 
invited  the  Munsifif,  Durgiah  Naidu,  to  his  tent  for 
an  interview.  Few  people  remained  in  their 
houses  that  afternoon  ; hundreds  gathered  about 
the  tent.  The  Missionary  received  Durgiah  Naidu 
politely,  offered  him  a chair  in  his  tent,  and  talked 
and  remonstrated  with  him  at  length.  Those  who 
were  outside,  looking  into  the  wide-open  tent 
doors,  were  disappointed,  for  there  was  no  scene. 
The  preacher  of  Kutchipudy,  and  others  of  the 
preachers  who  accompanied  the  Missionary  on 
his  tour,  sat  with  him  in  the  tent. 

It  seems  the  Missionary  tried  to  show  to  the 
Munsiff  that  he  was  guilty  of  a usurpation  of 
power,  and  that  he  was  doing  contrary  to  the 
spirit  of  the  English  Government.  The  Dora 
talked  in  this  wise : “ The  Queen  is  our  mother, 
and  you  are  eating  her  pay.  You  ought,  therefore, 
to  treat  all  her  subjects  alike ; you  have  no  right 
under  English  law  to  persecute  these  Christians. 
Many  letters  have  come  to  me  full  of  the  troubles 
you  have  heaped  upon  them.  You  are  doing 


THE  PERSECUTOR 


255 


wrong,  and  God  sees  your  doings.  As  a Chris- 
tian, and  as  one  who  knows  that  you  are  doing 
contrary  to  the  wishes  of  the  rulers  of  this  coun- 
try, I ask  you  to  stop.”  It  was  said  among  those 
present  that  Durgiah  Naidu,  who  was  a large, 
portly  man,  for  he  was  rich  and  lived  well,  went 
into  the  tent  breathing  somewhat  excitedly,  won- 
dering what  the  Missionary,  who  had  travelled  so 
far  to  look  after  his  doings,  would  say  to  him. 
When  he  saw  that  he  was  to  be  merely  admon- 
ished, he,  in  the  words  of  the  spectators,  “breathed 
comfortably  like  a frog.”  He  agreed,  finally,  that 
he  would  cease  from  persecuting  the  Christians 
and  would  treat  them  kindly. 

Durgiah  Naidu  had  been  under  the  impression 
that  the  Missionary  would  leave  that  night,  that 
all  would  be  as  heretofore,  and  since  he  and  others 
thought  that  he  had  forced  the  Kutchipudy  Chris- 
tians back  into  heathenism,  it  certainly  seemed  as 
if  he  had  thus  far  proved  the  stronger  in  the  race. 
Great  was  his  rage  when  he  heard  that  in  the 
evening,  after  he  had  left  the  Missionary’s  tent, 
thirty  had  asked  for  baptism,  that  the  Dora  had 
put  them  off,  telling  them  that  they  needed  much 


256 


A BATTLE-GROUND 


faith  to  stand  firmly  in  this  place,  but  that  they 
had  insisted  that  they  could  bear  whatever  might 
come. 

In  the  morning,  long  before  sunrise,  the  Munsiff 
took  the  Yettis  and  a few  of  his  own  servants, 
and  walked  past  the  tank  in  the  direction  of  the 
Madiga  hamlet.  He  stood  at  a distance ; the 
Yettis  brought  to  him  the  leading  men  among 
those  who  had  applied  for  baptism.  In  an  angry 
tone  he  said  : “ The  Dora  was  going  last  night. 
You  kept  him  here.  Now  go  away,  or  I shall  kill 
you.”  They  saw  the  look  of  fierce  determination 
in  his  face  ; they  trembled  before  it,  and  went 
away  across  the  fields,  where  his  wrath  could  not 
reach  them. 

Durgiah  Naidu  determined  to  remain,  and,  by 
his  presence,  to  control  the  situation.  He  stood 
on  the  high  bank  of  the  tank,  covered  with  trees, 
between  the  Madiga  hamlet  and  the  Missionary’s 
tent.  Ten  of  the  prominent  Sudras,  with  long 
sticks  in  their  hands,  gathered  around  him.  The 
sun  was  just  rising  when  the  Missionary  came  to- 
ward the  tank.  He  had  heard  that  some  of  the 
Madigas  had  fled,  and  had  seen  how  Durgiah 


THE  PERSECUTOR 


257 


Naidu  stood  and  watched  every  one  who  ap- 
proached his  tent. 

Now  came  the  encounter  which  all  had  expected 
the  previous  day.  Two  men,  endowed  with 
strength  far  above  the  average,  met,  one  strong 
in  defending  the  rights  of  men  who,  at  the  hands 
of  Christian  teachers,  were  taking  the  first  step 
out  of  a crushing  serfdom  ; the  other  strong  in 
holding  them  with  the  iron  grip  of  conservatism 
where  their  ancestors  had  been  held.  The  Chris- 
tians gathered  around  their  Dora  ; his  two  faithful 
servants,  his  lascars  and  bandy  men,  too,  came. 
A crowd  of  Sudras  came  to  see  what  the  issue 
would  be. 

Many  a time  since  then  has  the  preacher  of 
Kutchipudy  been  asked  to  tell  what  the  Dora  said 
to  Durgiah  Naidu  on  that  morning.  There  were 
many  who  could  prompt  him  should  he  forget. 
These  are  the  words  of  the  Missionary  as  they 
to-day  live  in  the  memory  of  the  people : " If  you 
thought  that  I was  sleeping  last  night  you  were 
mistaken.  After  I had  slept  a few  minutes,  I 
jumped  in  my  sleep,  and  woke  up  thinking  about 
you.  I talked  with  you  yesterday  kindly ; you 

17 


W.S.S. 


258 


A BATTLE-GROUND 


this  morning  violate  your  promise.  Don’t  you 
know  that  the  English  Government  punishes  such 
evil  deeds  as  yours?  You  are  like  the  frog  that 
wanted  to  be  as  large  as  the  ox,  and  breathed  so 
full  of  air  that  it  burst.  You  may  yet  lose  your 
position.” 

With  a careless  insolence  the  Munsiff  said,  “If 
I lose  it,  what  is  that  to  me  ? ” 

Then  the  Dora’s  wrath  knew  no  bounds.  His 
eyes  flashed  with  fire.  “ But  you  will  care  when 
you  find  yourself  in  prison,  and,  as  a convict,  work 
on  the  roads,  carrying  baskets  of  gravel  on  your 
head.  Even  if  the  English  Government  do  not 
make  you  as  if  you  had  never  been,  God  will  wipe 
you  out  unless  you  cease  from  evil-doing.  As  the 
hawk  darts  upon  the  chicks,  so  you  destroy  these 
Christians.  I am  a Padre,  and  have  only  one 
tongue,  not  a double  tongue  like  the  snakes,  and  I 
tell  you  the  truth,  that  God  is  not  dead,  and  that 
He  will  reckon  with  you  before  many  months 
unless  you  now  stop.” 

Fear  entered  the  hearts  of  the  Sudras.  They 
moved  away  from  Durgiah  Naidu  and  said : 
“ What  use  is  it  to  worry  these  Christians  ? Why 


THE  PERSECUTOR 


259 


don’t  you  let  them  alone  ? ” They  followed  at  a 
distance  when  the  Missionary  went  to  the  well  in 
the  Madiga  village,  into  which,  he  had  heard,  the 
Munsiff  had  ordered  thuma  trees  to  be  thrown — 
trees  that  have  so  strong  an  odour  that  they  make 
water  almost  undrinkable.  He  requested  Durgiah 
Naidu  to  let  his  Yettis  remove  them,  and  stood 
by  until  the  logs  of  ill-smelling  wood  had  been 
taken  out  and  thrown  at  a distance.  Then  he 
went  to  the  tank,  to  the  idol  Poleramah,  and  had 
the  whole  story  of  that  disgraceful  scene  repeated 
to  him.  He  was  very  sad.  He  told  the  Christians 
to  endure  for  a season,  and  let  all  that  region 
witness  the  faith  that  was  in  them.  In  due  time, 
he  assured  them,  God  would  either  make  Durgiah 
Naidu  a changed  man,  or  that  He  would  in  some 
way  overrule  events,  so  that  deliverance  and  free- 
dom would  be  theirs.  That  day  he  stayed ; but 
toward  evening  he  mounted  his  horse  and  rode  to 
his  next  camp  at  Kodalur.  His  tent  followed, 
and  next  day  the  grove  where  the  Missionary  had 
camped  was  deserted. 

The  Madigas  are  not  without  courage.  They 
will  dare  and  do,  showing  that  long  generations 


26o 


A BATTLE-GROUND 


past  valiant  blood  flowed  in  their  veins.  Those 
candidates  for  baptism  who  had  fled  before  Dur- 
giah  Naidu  one  day  determined  the  next  to  walk 
the  fifteen  miles  to  Kodalur  and  receive  the  ordi- 
nance there.  There  were  eighteen  of  them.  When 
the  Missionary  saw  them  he  hesitated ; but  he 
could  not  refuse  them,  for  they  said  they  were 
prepared  to  stand  firmly  whatever  might  befall 
them. 

Durgiah  Naidu  had  seen  it  clearly  demonstrated 
that  the  Christian  religion  cannot  be  washed  off 
with  tank  water,  and  that  the  worship  of  Poler- 
amah  cannot  be  forced  upon  unwilling  men  with 
the  reeking  blood  of  buffaloes  and  goats.  He  did 
not  try  this  experiment  again.  Instead,  he  deter- 
mined that,  since  the  Christians  had  loosened  the 
old  relation  that  existed  between  Sudra  and 
Madiga,  they  should  be  shown  that  under  the  new 
regime  the  Sudras  had  no  use  for  them.  In  con- 
sequence they  were  shut  off  from  contact  with  the 
Sudra  part  of  the  village.  If  they  tried  to  walk 
the  usual  roads  there  were  Yettis  there  to  pre- 
vent them  ; if  they  tried  to  enter  the  bazaar  of  the 
village  they  were  ordered  away  ; some  who  re- 


THE  PERSECUTOR 


261 

sisted  were  cruelly  beaten.  No  one  employed 
them  ; they  had  nothing  to  eat. 

Some  of  the  Sudras  remonstrated  with  Durgiah 
Naidu,  but  he  declared  with  an  oath,  “ Though 
it  cost  me  a cartload  of  rupees  I shall  not  rest 
until  there  is  not  a Christian  left  in  Kutchi- 
pudy.” 

After  an  absence  of  just  two  months  the  Mis- 
sionary reached  his  home  at  Ongole.  He  had 
made  one  of  the  long  tours  that  characterized  those 
early  times.  Territory  now  occupied  by  ten 
mission  stations  he  in  those  days  regarded  as  his 
field.  He  had  visited  ninety-eight  villages  where 
there  were  Christians.  In  twenty-seven  different 
places  he  had  pitched  his  camp.  He  had  baptized 
1,067  believers.  The  item  of  interest  most  dis- 
cussed by  the  hundreds  who  came  and  went  in  the 
mission  compound,  he  found,  was  the  latest  de- 
velopment of  the  Kutchipudy  persecution. 

At  the  monthly  meeting  held  soon  after  there 
was  a general  expression  of  desire  to  hear  par- 
ticulars of  the  persecution.  On  Sunday  morning 
the  chapel  was  crowded  with  its  audience  of  nearly 
one  thousand  people.  Before  them  all  the  preacher 


262 


A BATTLE-GROUND 


and  ten  of  the  leading  Christians  of  Kutchipudy 
stood  to  tell  their  story.  It  was  told  with  tears, 
for  their  hearts  were  very  heavy.  It  seemed  as  if 
they  could  not  endure  more.  Their  children  were 
crying  for  want  of  food,  and  many  among  them 
had  begun  to  eat  leaves,  and  were  dreading  the 
starvation  that  stared  them  in  the  face. 

Several  of  the  older  preachers,  who  knew  by 
experience  that  the  hand  of  God  moves  with 
mighty  power,  and  that  the  prayer  of  faith  does  not 
pass  unheeded,  prayed  with  an  earnestness  that 
seemed  to  look  for  something  unforeseen.  All 
felt  that  they  had  a part  in  this,  for  if  the  Munsiff 
of  Kutchipudy  could  thus  drive  a village  of  Chris- 
tians to  the  verge  of  starvation,  would  not  the 
Sudras  everywhere  harden  their  hearts  against  the 
Christians,  and  plunge  them  into  similar  distress  ? 
The  collection  was  taken ; twenty-seven  rupees  was 
the  amount  sent  to  the  sufferers,  one  rupee  for 
each  family.  But  what  could  they  do  with  money 
when  the  bazaars  were  closed  to  them? 

The  preachers  of  that  region  asked  that  some 
one  be  appointed  to  come  to  the  villages  where 
there  were  Christians  and  collect  contributions 


THE  PERSECUTOR 


263 


of  grain.  The  choice  fell  upon  one  of  their 
number,  who  soon  arrived  at  Kutchipudy  with 
two  cartloads  of  grain  which  had  been  given  him, 
a measure  here  and  a measure  there.  A new 
principle  was  this,  the  application  of  which  was 
displayed  before  the  wondering  eyes  of  thousands. 
The  despised  Madigas  were  standing  by  each 
other  in  brotherly  love! 

It  was  on  the  30th  of  April  that  the  Yettis  of 
Kutchipudy  raised  the  funeral-pyre  for  the 
Munsiff,  Ballavanti  Durgiah  Naidu,  applied  the 
torch,  and  stood  at  a distance  while  the  fire  con- 
sumed his  mortal  remains.  The  persecutor  was 
dead.  A letter  was  sent  to  Ongole.  The  Mis- 
sionary felt  as  if  in  the  presence  of  Almighty  God, 
for  had  he  not  told  Durgiah  Naidu  that  if  he  did 
not  cease  God  would  cut  him  off?  The  message 
was  passed  from  village  to  village.  Wherever 
Yettis  went  with  loads  to  deliver  they  told  of  the 
death  of  Durgiah  Naidu. 

Many  now  recalled  the  interview  between  the 
Missionary  and  Durgiah  Naidu  at  sunrise,  January 
30th.  Did  he  not  say,  “ Within  three  months 
God  will  kill  you  unless  you  cease  from  persecu- 


26  4 


A BATTLE-GROUND 


ting  these  Christians  ? * On  the  very  day,  three 
months  later,  he  died.  Others  said  they  saw  the 
Missionary  in  his  fierce  wrath  lay  his  hand  on 
Durgiah  Naidu’s  shoulder,  as  he  warned  him  of 
the  judgment  of  the  Almighty.  In  that  very 
place,  it  was  said,  the  carbuncle  or  cancer,  which 
defied  the  skill  of  native  physicians,  had  appeared, 
had  caused  excruciating  pain,  silently  borne,  for 
none  should  know  that  the  power  that  had  vowed 
destruction  to  the  Christians  was  being  laid  low. 
And  thus  death  had  brought  the  end.  Fear  fell 
upon  all ; and  those  who  had  hatred  in  their  hearts 
found  that  their  hands  trembled  when  they  strove 
to  do  harm  to  the  Christians.  But  thousands 
who  bore  the  name  of  Christ,  though  hushed  in 
awe,  took  courage,  for  they  saw  that  their  God  is 
not  one  who  hath  ears  and  hears  not,  eyes,  yet 
seeth  not,  but  that  He  is  a God  who  fights  for 
those  who  trust  in  Him. 

There  was  peace  now  in  the  Madiga  hamlet  of 
Kutchipudy.  The  Sudras  had  drawn  away  from 
Durgiah  Naidu  toward  the  end,  and  had  said : 
“ You  deserve  it  all.  Why  did  you  raise  your 
hand  against  the  Christians  ? ” They  now  called 


THE  PERSECUTOR 


265 


the  Christians  to  work,  and  treated  them  with  con- 
sideration. But  gloom  settled  over  the  house  of 
Durgiah  Naidu.  It  was  commonly  said  that  the 
curse  of  the  Missionary  rested  upon  it.  The 
widow  went  to  Kottapakonda  to  worship  Kotta- 
paswami,  in  the  hope  that  the  curse  would  be 
removed  from  her  household.  She  came  home 
and  fell  sick  with  cholera.  She  insisted  that  the 
preacher  should  be  called  to  give  her  medicine, 
hoping  that  thus  the  power  of  the  curse  might  be 
lessened.  She  died.  The  two  sons  grew  up,  and 
became  heads  of  families.  But  there  were  deaths 
in  the  family,  and  deaths  among  the  cattle,  and 
people  said,  “ It  is  the  curse  of  the  Padre  Dora.” 
Fifteen  years  had  passed,  when  one  day  the 
Missionary  again  camped  in  the  grove  opposite  the 
Christian  hamlet,  in  sight  of  the  tank.  The  sons 
of  Durgiah  Naidu  feared  to  go  near.  They  remem- 
bered their  father’s  guilt  and  his  end.  The  preacher 
told  them  not  to  fear,  for  were  they  not  kind  to  the 
Christians  ? But  they  said,  “ We,  too,  may  die.” 
Their  dead  mother’s  elder  brother  said  : “ Shall 
this  go  on  year  after  year  ? The  Missionary  must 
remove  the  curse.”  He  went  to  one  of  the 


266 


A BATTLE-GROUND 


preachers,  who  had  come  with  the  camp,  and 
asked  him  to  request  the  Padre  to  come  to  the 
house  of  Durgiah  Naidu  and  pray  there,  for  then 
the  curse  would  no  longer  hover  over  the  family. 
The  preacher  went  into  the  tent  with  his  message. 
The  Missionary  asked,  “ Are  they  now  kind  to 
the  Christians  ? ” The  preacher  assured  him  that 
they  were.  “ Give  order  to  have  my  horse  saddled.” 

The  uncle  of  Durgiah  Naidu’s  sons  hastened 
home  and  gathered  the  whole  family  into  the 
house.  They  placed  a chair  for  the  Missionary, 
and  on  the  table  they  put  a large  plate  of  sugar 
and  fruit  to  offer  to  him.  He  came  with  two  of  his 
preachers.  They  were  led  into  the  house  by  the 
men  of  the  family  with  every  mark  of  courtesy 
and  respect.  The  women  stood  on  one  side 
holding  their  children. 

He  asked,  “ Is  evil-doing  gone  out  from  here?” 
They  said,  “ All  is  gone.”  “ Then  why  do  you 
not  believe  in  the  true  God  ? ” Several  answered 
him  that  they  would  believe. 

But  now  the  uncle,  who  was  in  one  sense  head 
of  the  family,  spoke.  “ We  desire,”  he  said,  using 
very  courteous  language,  “ to  enjoy  the  blessing  of 


THE  PERSECUTOR 


267 


your  God  upon  our  household.  Your  God  hears 
your  prayer,  and  we  believe  that  if  you,  here  in 
this  spot,  ask  Him  to  look  upon  us  with  favour 
that  we  shall  once  more  be  a happy  family.” 

This  family  group  knew  nothing  of  Old  Testa- 
ment dispensation,  yet  trembled  before  that  law  of 
Jehovah  that  visits  the  sins  of  fathers  upon  their 
children.  The  Missionary  and  his  two  preachers, 
who  had  come  to  ask  for  blessings  where  he,  who 
had  died  in  iniquity,  had  cursed  the  believers  of 
Jehovah,  represented  the  New  Testament  with  its 
injunctions  to  “ bless  them  that  persecute  you.” 
The  Missionary  asked  for  peace  upon  this  house- 
hold. The  gloom  that  had  hung  over  it  like  a 
threatening  cloud  was  dispelled.  He  motioned  to 
his  preachers  to  accept  the  gift  of  sugar  and  fruit, 
and  amid  the  grateful  salaams  of  all  mounted  his 
horse  and  rode  back  to  his  camp. 

The  idol  of  Poleramah  no  longer  stands  on  the 
bank  of  the  tank  at  Kutchipudy.  It  was  packed 
upon  one  of  the  Missionary’s  carts,  among  the 
tents,  rolled  up  in  huge  bundles,  and  was  taken  to 
Ongole,  where  it  stands  in  the  mission  compound 
as  a relic  of  the  past. 


THE  POWER  OF  CHRISTIANITY 


A Great  Calamity 
A Modern  Pentecost 
Conclusion 


A GREAT  CALAMITY 


There  were  many  who  anxiously  watched  the 
clouds  in  the  year  1876,  for  if  another  monsoon 
season  passed  by  with  cloudless  sky  a famine  was 
inevitable. 

Various  ways  and  means  were  used  of  pre- 
dicting the  evil  days  that  seemed  to  be  near,  but 
the  old  gardener  in  the  mission  compound  had 
a way  all  his  own,  and  he  confidently  asserted 
to  every  one  that  without  doubt  a famine  was 
coming. 

“ Every  day,”  he  said,  “ the  Dora  came  out  on 
the  verandah  and  looked  at  a little  board  with  a 
thin  glass  bottle  on  it,  and  in  the  bottle  there  was 
a little  mud.  And  he  looked  carefully  and  said, 
‘ Gardener,  there  is  going  to  be  a famine/  and  I 
said  surely  it  would  come.” 


271 


272  THE  POWER  OF  CHRISTIANITY 


I did  not  grasp  his  meaning.  “ What  sort  of 
board  and  glass  bottle  and  mud  was  it?”  I 
asked. 

“ Is  there  not  one  on  the  verandah  now  ? ” 
and  he  pointed  to  the  barometer ; and  then  I saw 
that  the  old  man  had  taken  advantage  of  the 
methods  of  Western  science  in  predicting  what 
was  to  come. 

I knew  many  who  lived  through  the  famine  of 
1876-78.  Those  who  were  children  during  those 
years  were  many  of  them  stunted  in  growth,  and 
some  had  a look  of  premature  age  on  their  faces. 
But  old  men  and  women  remembered  a famine 
which  must  have  had  unusual  horrors,  for  all  said, 
“ Men  ate  men  in  that  famine.”  I was  not  willing 
to  believe  them,  for  I had  heard  my  husband 
say  that  though  thousands  died  in  1876-78,  and 
men  were  fierce  with  the  pangs  of  hunger,  he  had 
never  seen  a trace  of  cannibalism.  When,  there- 
fore, some  one  told  me  of  the  famine  of  1836,  that 
“ men  ate  men,”  I always  asked  whether  they 
knew  of  any  one  who  had  seen  it.  A woman  did 
tell  me  that  her  mother  was  told  by  a neighbour 
that  she  saw  a woman  put  her  child  into  a pot  to 


A GREAT  CALAMITY 


273 


boil  it.  Her  voice  sank  to  a whisper  as  she  told 
me.  It  seemed  too  horrible  to  tell. 

A large  proportion  of  the  Madigas  live  so  close 
to  the  starvation  point  all  the  year  round  that  the 
first  failure  of  crops  brought  hunger  to  their  door. 
When  another  rainy  season  passed  without  bring- 
ing sufficient  moisture  to  help  the  seed  to  sprout, 
there  was  great  distress.  The  Madigas  went  to 
the  Sudras  for  aid,  but  they  had  no  harvest  to 
share  with  them.  They  themselves  had  not 
enough  to  eat,  and  were  beginning  to  sell  the 
substantial  silver  belts  and  gold  bracelets  of  the 
family  to  buy  food.  But  cattle  were  dying  of 
hunger  and  thirst,  and  the  Madigas  found  an 
occasional  meal  by  picking  the  morsel  of  meat  off 
the  bones  of  starved  animals.  The  red  fruit  of 
the  cactus  became  desirable  food.  Many  began  to 
eat  leaves,  seeds  and  weeds. 

The  Ongole  Missionary’s  daily  visits  to  the 
“ board,  thin  bottle  and  mud  inside,”  showed  the 
anxiety  which  he  felt.  He  was  thinking  of  ways 
to  meet  the  approaching  calamity.  Ten  years  had 
passed  since  he  came  to  Ongole.  He  counted  as 
his  flock  3,269  Christians,  nearly  all  from  the 

18 


W.S.S. 


274  THE  POWER  OF  CHRISTIANITY 


Madigas.  He  had  been  among  them  so  much,  he 
knew  that  they  were  destitute  and  poor  even  when 
harvests  were  plentiful.  The  emaciated  figures  of 
men  and  women  that  were  haunting  the  com- 
pound in  ever-increasing  numbers,  calling  to  him 
whenever  he  appeared  in  the  verandah,  “We  are 
dying ! we  are  dying ! ” showed  him  that  some- 
thing must  be  done. 

The  preachers  came  and  went  with  careworn 
aces.  They  knew  something  of  the  activity  in 
the  mission  bungalow,  of  appeals  for  help  sent  to 
America,  of  correspondence  with  the  Government 
in  Madras.  Ere  long  they  were  sent  out  with  a 
message  that  all  could  earn  cooley  and  enough  to 
eat  if  they  came  to  Razupallem,  where  the  Mis- 
sionary had  taken  a contract  for  digging.  The 
English  Government  were  undertaking  relief  work 
of  various  kinds.  The  Buckingham  Canal,  ex- 
tending from  Madras  north  to  Bezwada,  on  the 
East  Coast,  offered  relief  work  on  a large  scale. 
The  Ongole  Missionary  had  taken  a contract  to 
dig  three  miles  of  this  canal.  The  relief  camp 
was  to  be  at  Razupallem,  ten  miles  east  of  Ongole 
and  near  the  coast. 


FAMINE-STRICKEN  CHRISTIANS. 


[Page  274. 


A GREAT  CALAMITY 


275 


One  of  the  preachers,  with  twenty  coolies  to 
help  him,  was  sent  ahead  to  prepare  the  camp. 
The  Missionary  came  and  showed  him  where  to 
put  up  the  rows  of  huts,  forming  little  streets. 
There  were  palm  trees  and  bamboos  growing  all 
along  the  sea-shore.  A man  was  sent  out  to  nego- 
tiate with  the  villagers  for  palm  leaves  and  bamboo 
sticks,  with  which  to  build  the  little  huts.  Several 
wells  had  to  be  dug,  not  deep,  for  water  was  near 
the  surface.  The  potters  in  the  surrounding  vil- 
lages were  given  an  advance  for  pots,  that  the 
starving  crowd  might  buy  for  a copper,  and  boil 
their  meal  over  a fire  of  the  dry  leaves  and  sticks 
to  be  picked  up  everywhere. 

At  the  appointed  time  the  preachers  came  into 
Ongole  from  far  and  near  with  a multitude  of 
starving  people.  The  Missionary  had  sent  Ko- 
matis  ahead  to  Razupallem  with  bags  of  grain  to 
sell.  He  sent  word  to  the  preacher  who  was  there 
to  be  ready,  for  a great  crowd  would  come  in  the 
afternoon.  At  two  o’clock  they  began  to  arrive, 
and  as  the  preacher  and  his  helpers  looked  over 
the  plain  towards  Ongole,  the  advancing  multitude 
seemed  to  them  like  a huge  ocean-wave  rolling 


276  THE  POWER  OF  CHRISTIANITY 


upon  them.  The  huts  were  soon  filled.  Families 
had  the  first  consideration.  Those  who  found  no 
room  had  to  lie  under  the  trees. 

But  the  tumult  and  the  contentions  of  that  night ! 
The  Missionary,  after  seeing  that  each  had  suffi- 
cient in  his  hands  for  an  evening  meal,  had  come 
to  the  camp.  He  tried  to  establish  order ; but 
who  can  reason  with  hungry  men  ? There  was 
bargaining  for  pots  ; there  was  wrangling  over  the 
grain.  So  eager  for  food  were  they  that  three 
preachers  had  to  walk  up  and  down  among  the 
huts  to  see  that  the  palm  leaves  and  the  bamboo 
sticks  were  not  used  for  fuel,  or  that  by  careless- 
ness the  huts  were  not  set  on  fire  as  the  food 
was  boiling  in  the  pots. 

In  the  morning  the  digging  began.  Thirty 
preachers  were  made  overseers.  Crude  picks  and 
shovels  were  supplied.  The  men  did  the  digging ; 
the  women  filled  baskets  with  earth,  and  carried 
them  away  on  their  heads  to  empty  on  one  side 
and  return. 

During  those  first  few  days  the  Missionary  in- 
sisted that  the  preachers,  too,  must  dig.  “ After 
you  come  and  show  me  your  hands  full  of  blisters, 


A GREAT  CALAMITY 


277 


I shall  be  certain  that  you  know  how  it  feels  to 
dig,  and  you  will  not  be  hard  on  any  one.”  He 
feared  that  some  might  assume  a harsh  attitude 
when  urging  the  starving  people  to  work.  Several 
preachers  told  me  they  shovelled  dirt  till  the 
blisters  rose,  and  they  showed  them  to  the  Dora, 
and  he  said,  “ Right  ; you  will  make  a good 
overseer.” 

There  were  Komati  Chetties  in  Ongole,  who 
thought  they  would  take  advantage  of  the  thou- 
sands in  the  camp  at  Razupallem.  They  brought 
grain  into  the  camp  that  was  only  half  ripe. 
It  was  cheap,  and  people  bought  it.  Sickness 
increased,  and  the  Missionary,  as  he  went  about 
giving  medicine,  enquired  about  the  food.  “ Show 
me  the  next  Komati  who  brings  spoiled  grain 
into  this  camp.”  Soon  the  preachers  sent  word 
to  his  tent  that  two  Komatis  were  coming  with 
a new  supply.  As  soon  as  they  saw  the  Dora 
coming  toward  them,  they  dropped  their  bags  in 
fear  and  ran  away.  The  bags  were  opened,  and 
the  half-ripe  grain  fell  into  the  sand.  The  Dora 
stamped  upon  it  with  his  feet  till  it  was  all  mixed 
with  sand,  and  no  one  could  find  it  to  eat  it. 


278  THE  POWER  OF  CHRISTIANITY 


After  this  no  grain  was  sold  in  the  little  bazaar 
of  the  camp  that  had  not  been  inspected  and 
pronounced  fit  to  eat. 

Wages  were  good.  Those  who  had  worked 
for  a time  went  home  and  sent  friends  and 
relatives.  The  sick  were  brought  on  litters. 
Those  who  were  too  weak  to  work  were  given  a 
subsistence  allowance.  But  there  was  danger 
lurking  even  in  the  abundance  at  the  camp. 
Some  who  came  were  too  hungry  to  wait;  they  ate 
the  half-boiled  grain  out  of  the  pot.  And  then 
they  lay  down  and  died.  Many  a time  the 
preachers  tried  to  keep  these  half-starved  arrivals 
from  eating.  They  gave  them  “ congee  ” to  drink 
— a kind  of  gruel — but  they  would  not  listen. 
“ Never  mind,  let  me  eat ; I am  dying  with 
hunger”;  and  the  remonstrances  of  the  preachers 
only  angered  them  in  their  craving  for  a sub- 
stantial meal.  There  were  others  so  emaciated, 
no  matter  how  much  they  ate,  they  were  always 
hungry.  They  ate  oftener  and  more  than  their 
starved  bodies  could  endure.  Soon  they  were 
found  lying  somewhere  very  still,  and  those  who 
looked  at  them  found  that  they  were  dead. 


A GREAT  CALAMITY 


279 


The  death-rate  was  large.  No  one  knew  how 
many  died  each  day.  The  living  were  so  full  of 
trouble  they  could  not  dig  graves  for  the  dead  ; 
all  they  could  do  was  to  carry  them  outside  the 
camp  into  the  cactus  hedge.  The  jackals,  dogs, 
and  birds  did  the  rest.  There  were  those  whose 
relations  died.  None  could  be  found  who  would 
dig  a deep  grave  into  the  hard  soil.  Yet  love 
clung  even  where  the  dullness  of  despair  had 
taken  away  the  sharp  edge  of  pain.  They  dug 
a few  feet  deep  into  the  sand,  and  covered  the 
dead  one  well.  At  night  the  howl  of  the  jackals, 
so  like  the  horrible  laughter  of  fiends  and  demons, 
was  heard  in  the  distance,  and  in  the  morning 
none  cared  to  go  near. 

Every  one  in  the  camp  was  sad  at  heart,  and 
many  were  full  of  fear.  Cholera  was  abroad  in 
the  camp,  and  death  stared  every  one  in  the 
face.  One  of  the  preachers  told  me  how  his  wife 
died  of  cholera  on  the  way  to  the  camp.  There 
were  women  there  without  husband  or  brother 
to  care  for  them  ; there  were  children  who  had 
survived  their  parents,  and  were  now  to  learn  that 
Christianity  is  tender  toward  the  fatherless.  The 


28 o THE  POWER  OF  CHRISTIANITY 


roadsides  everywhere  were  lined  with  the  bleach- 
ing bones  of  those  who  had  to  lie  down  on  the 
road  to  die.  The  heat  was  intense,  and  there 
was  no  shade  where  they  were  digging.  “ Our 
hearts  were  very  heavy,”  the  preachers  told  me, 
“ and  our  Dora’s  hair  turned  white  during  that 
year.” 

Each  preacher  had  about  one  hundred  people 
working  under  him.  He  was  responsible  for  the 
amount  of  work  which  they  did,  and  they  received 
their  pay  from  him  every  evening.  He  became 
acquainted  with  the  company  working  under  him, 
even  though  there  was  much  coming  and  going. 
Often  during  the  day  some  of  the  diggers  would  sit 
down  for  a short  rest,  and  then  the  preacher  would 
join  them  and  hear  them  tell,  in  broken  words  and 
a look  of  utter  misery  in  their  eyes,  of  the  scattered 
families  and  those  who  had  died  ; and  there  was 
always  the  wail,  “We  are  all  dying  ! ” Then  was 
the  time  to  say  comforting  words.  The  people 
said  afterwards,  “They  told  us  words  which  we 
could  not  forget.” 

Distress  was  so  great,  no  one  thought  of  those 
demons  that  have  their  eyes  ever  directed  to  this 


A GREAT  CALAMITY 


281 

earth,  thirsting  for  blood.  The  demons  seemed 
to  have  joined  together  to  slay  the  living,  and  who 
could  stop,  in  the  search  for  a morsel  to  eat,  to 
propitiate  them  all  ? The  terrors  of  the  famine 
were  greater  than  the  terrors  inspired  by  demons. 
As  for  comfort  and  trust  and  hope,  where  in  all 
their  cults  had  the  Madigas  anything  to  inspire 
the  firm  belief  that  there  is  a hand  that  guides 
all  events  and  guides  them  in  mercy? 

As  the  preachers  sat  with  an  occasional  group 
of  those  who  wanted  rest,  they  said,  “ Our  God 
does  not  send  trouble  because  He  is  thirsting  for 
the  lives  of  men.  He  has  let  this  come  upon  us 
because  He  saw  that  men  were  going  all  wrong — 
that  they  were  doing  puja  to  gods  in  whom  there 
is  no  salvation.  Jesus  Christ,  by  dying  for  us, 
has  taken  all  our  troubles  upon  Himself.”  And 
then  the  preachers  would  take  their  New  Testa- 
ment, which  they  ever  had  with  them,  and  they 
would  read  verses  to  the  people  that  seemed  like 
balm  on  their  sore  hearts  and  troubled  minds — 
especially  “ Come  unto  Me,  all  ye  that  labour  and 
are  heavy  laden,  and  I will  give  you  rest.”  And 
they  went  back  to  work.  But  after  a time  they 


282  THE  POWER  OF  CHRISTIANITY 


said,  “ Read  us  that  verse  again  out  of  your  holy 
book.”  Never  in  any  of  their  cults,  not  in  the 
Ramanuja  sect,  nor  in  the  Nasriah  sect,  had 
they  heard  such  words ! And  as  they  were 
digging  the  memory  of  their  old  cults  grew  faint 
in  their  minds.  In  their  misery  they  turned  to 
Jesus  Christ  for  His  touch  of  healing. 

The  contract  for  three  miles  of  digging  was 
finished  after  eight  months  of  work.  Rain  came. 
The  seed  was  sown  with  many  mantras,  but  it 
rotted  in  the  ground.  The  crowds  that  came  to 
the  mission  bungalow  in  Ongole  were  so  great 
that  though  the  Dora  stood  on  the  east  verandah 
and  gave  relief  to  the  men  to  carry  home  to 
their  families,  and  the  Dorasani  stood  on  the 
west  verandah  daily  giving  grain  to  the  women 
who  had  come  with  their  starving  children,  it 
was  not  enough.  Four  Christians  had  to  act 
as  policemen,  wearing  a uniform,  the  pressure  was 
so  great.  When  the  servants  carried  the  noon 
meal  the  few  yards  from  the  cook-house  to  the 
bungalow,  they  had  to  hold  the  dishes  high  above 
their  heads  and  start  on  a run,  for  there  were 
starved  creatures  everywhere  ready  to  snatch  it 


A GREAT  CALAMITY 


283 

from  them.  Every  morning  the  dead  were  found 
in  the  hedge  around  the  compound.  They  had 
come  for  help,  but  now  had  no  need  of  it. 

The  preachers  came  in  from  the  field,  reporting 
great  distress.  The  Christians  were  dying,  espe- 
cially the  aged  and  the  children.  The  Missionary 
could  not  journey  here  and  there  bringing  relief. 
His  presence  was  imperative  at  headquarters. 
He  had  to  make  his  preachers  his  stewards. 
They  went  about,  all  over  the  country,  with 
money  to  give  to  the  Christians.  But  they  had 
orders  not  to  refuse  any  one  they  met  in  the 
way  starving  who  asked  for  enough  to  buy  a meal. 
They  found  men  greedy  and  grasping  in  their 
demand  for  help.  Even  the  finer  feelings  of 
family  relationship  were  blunt,  as  the  stronger 
members  of  families  wrangled  with  the  aged  and 
weak,  and  begrudged  them  the  help  they  had 
received. 

Again  rain  came.  Bullocks  and  buffaloes  had 
died  ; men  harnessed  themselves  to  the  ploughs. 
A crop  was  growing,  but  a plague  of  locusts  came 
and  destroyed  it.  Ships  came  into  the  harbour 
at  Madras  laden  with  grain,  for  Government  did 


284  THE  POWER  OF  CHRISTIANITY 


its  utmost  to  save  the  people.  For  the  third 
time,  with  the  help  of  the  Mansion  House  Fund, 
seed-corn  was  given  out  plentifully  in  Ongole  to 
all  who  asked.  Sudras  came,  and  for  ten  rupees 
carried  away  bags  of  seed-corn  worth  thirty 
rupees.  They  promised  to  give  plentifully  to  the 
Madigas  of  the  coming  harvest.  Many  a Sudra 
had  gone  to  Ongole  during  the  famine  to  tell 
the  Missionary  of  his  distress,  and  had  come 
away  helped  and  comforted.  And  many  re- 
membered this  in  the  years  that  followed.  The 
activity  at  Ongole,  the  ceaseless  readiness  to 
save  from  starvation  the  lowest  stratum  of  society, 
even  the  Madigas,  was  a display  of  the  power 
of  Christianity  that  was  a wonder  in  the  eyes  of 
thousands.  “ It  is  a good  religion,”  they  said, 
one  and  all. 

A crop  of  millet,  maturing  quickly,  tided  the 
people  over  several  months,  and  then  a sub- 
stantial crop  of  rice  was  harvested.  A great 
calamity  was  over.  What  were  the  effects? 


A MODERN  PENTECOST 


As  the  preachers  went  about  on  their  fields 
toward  the  close  of  the  famine,  they  saw  that 
hundreds  were  ready  for  baptism.  In  villages 
where  heretofore  they  had  been  received  in  a 
half-hearted  kind  of  way  they  now  found  an  open 
door.  People  to  whom  they  had  talked  many 
a time  about  Jesus  Christ  in  the  years  before  the 
famine  now  told  them  that  they  believed  in 
Him. 

Those  early  Ongole  preachers  were  a remark- 
able group  of  men.  There  were  several  among 
them  who  stood  head  and  shoulders  above  their 
fellows,  born  leaders  of  men.  Others,  more  retir- 
ing, were  spiritually-minded  to  an  eminent  degree. 
People  said  of  them,  “ They  have  faith  ; when 
they  pray  to  their  God  He  hears  them.”  Several 

285 


286  THE  POWER  OF  CHRISTIANITY 


had  the  gift  of  the  evangelist ; they  went  where 
others  had  not  been,  and  left  behind  them,  as  they 
journeyed,  many  a village  where  it  was  said,  “ It 
would  be  well  to  join  this  new  religion.”  The 
majority  of  the  preachers  settled  as  pastors, 
making  some  central  village  their  headquarters, 
and  directing  their  efforts  to  all  the  region  round 
about. 

Some  of  his  best  men  the  Missionary  placed 
at  the  outposts,  where  they  had  to  hold  their  own 
far  away  from  the  mission  station.  Many  a man 
developed  ability  under  the  stress  of  circum- 
stances. The  wave  of  enthusiasm  that  carried 
with  it  the  strong  did  not  leave  behind  the  weak ; 
they  too  pressed  forward  with  a strength  not 
their  own.  The  esprit-de-corps  of  those  years  must 
have  been  of  unusual  intensity. 

Four  years  before  the  famine  began,  a Theo- 
logical Seminary  was  opened  in  Ramapatam.  Of 
the  early  workers  a number  were  together  at 
school  in  Ongole  for  a year.  They  studied,  but 
they  knew  that  the  days  were  precious.  Mes- 
sages came  from  far  and  near,  sent  by  those  who 
had  heard  only  enough  to  make  them  eager  to 


A MODERN  PENTECOST 


287 


hear  more.  The  day  came  when  the  Missionary 
told  them  that  they  must  go ; there  were  too 
many  calls.  He  promised  them  another  oppor- 
tunity for  study,  but  it  never  came.  They  went 
forth,  and  carried  such  burdens  that  never  again 
could  they  lay  them  aside  even  for  a season. 

Their  preaching  was  characterized  neither  by 
profound  thinking  nor  by  brilliant  oratory.  It 
was  just  the  story  of  Christ  and  Him  crucified 
told  over  and  over  again.  Much  as,  in  the  days 
of  primitive  Christianity,  simple  but  earnest  men 
told  the  sublime  story  of  the  life  and  death  of 
Christ  to  every  one,  so  these  men  went  about 
making  Christ  the  centre  of  their  thoughts  and 
words.  A spirit  of  tender  allegiance  to  Christ 
was  abroad  among  the  early  Ongole  Christians 
that  is  seldom  found  among  men.  They  could 
sit  together  and  weep  like  children  as  they 
repeated  to  each  other  the  story  of  the  suffering 
of  the  Christ.  “ Such  was  our  love  for  Him  in 
those  days,”  they  said  to  me. 

And  now  these  men  came  to  the  Missionary 
to  talk  with  him  about  the  hundreds,  even  thou- 
sands, who  were  ready  for  baptism.  But  he 


288  THE  POWER  OF  CHRISTIANITY 

always  said,  “Wait  till  the  famine  is  over.” 
Word  had  gone  out  some  time  ago  that  no  more 
famine-money  would  be  issued  in  Ongole ; still 
he  feared  that  the  hope  of  further  help  might 
form  a motive  in  the  minds  of  some.  During 
fifteen  months  there  had  not  been  a single  bap- 
tism. But  he  knew  his  field  ; he  had  refused  large 
companies  who  came  and  asked  for  baptism.  He 
knew  that  when  once  the  flood-gates  were  opened 
none  would  be  able  to  stay  the  tide.  A letter 
came  from  the  Mission  Secretary  in  Boston : 
“ What  is  this  that  I hear  of  your  refusing  to 
baptize  those  who  sincerely  ask  for  the  ordi- 
nance? Who  has  given  you  a right  to  do 
this?” 

In  June,  1878,  the  Missionary  wrote  to  his 
assistants  to  come  to  Vellumpilly,  ten  miles  north 
of  Ongole,  where  there  was  a travellers’  rest-house 
by  the  side  of  the  Gundlacumma  River,  and  a 
grove  of  tamarind  trees,  that  they  might  re-organize 
their  work.  As  cholera  and  small-pox  were  still 
prevalent  in  the  villages,  the  danger  of  bringing 
these  diseases  to  Ongole  was  thus  avoided.  He 
asked  them  to  bring  with  them  only  those  Chris- 


A MODERN  PENTECOST 


289 


tians  who  had  urgent  matters  to  lay  before  him 
and  to  leave  the  converts  behind.  Contrary  to 
orders,  the  converts  followed  the  preachers,  and 
when  the  Missionary  came  to  Vellumpilly  he  was 
met  by  a multitude  who  asked  for  baptism. 

He  mounted  a wall,  where  he  could  look  into 
their  faces,  and  told  them  he  had  no  further  help 
to  give  them,  and  they  must  return  home.  They 
cried  : “ We  do  not  want  help.  By  the  blisters 
on  our  hands  we  can  prove  to  you  that  we  have 
worked  and  will  continue  to  work.  If  the  next 
crop  fail  we  shall  die.  We  want  to  die  as 
Christians.  Baptize  us  therefore  ! ” He  hesitated 
— again  the  same  cry.  Then  he  withdrew  and 
talked  with  the  preachers,  who,  as  the  spokes- 
men of  the  people,  repeated  their  request.  He 
dared  not  refuse  longer  those  who  begged  to  be 
received  into  the  Church  of  Christ. 

On  the  first  day  all  gathered  under  a large 
banyan-tree,  sitting  close  together  on  the  sand. 
Many  voices  tried  to  join  in  the  hymns  that  had 
become  general  favourites.  The  volume  of  sound 
was  discordant,  but  it  gave  evidence  that  men 
were  very  much  in  earnest.  And  then  the  Mis- 

19 


w.s.s. 


290  THE  POWER  OF  CHRISTIANITY 


sionary  preached  on  those  words  that  all  had 
learned  during  the  famine— “ Come  unto  Me,  all 
ye  that  labour.”  For  an  hour  and  a half  he  talked, 
and  none  grew  weary  ; he  had  borne  their  trouble 
with  them,  and  now  he  could  talk  out  of  the 
fulness  of  an  experience  in  which  all  had  a part. 
This  sermon  struck  the  key-note  of  those  days 
by  the  side  of  the  Gundlacumma  River. 

Early  next  morning  an  enquiry  meeting  on  a 
large  scale  began.  The  Missionary  told  the 
preachers  to  separate  the  people,  each  one  taking 
those  who  belonged  to  his  special  field  under  one 
of  the  trees.  There  were  many  groups  thus 
scattered  ; some  counted  hundreds,  some  only  a 
few.  Over  each  was  the  preacher,  and  to  assist 
him  he  had  the  Madiga  headmen  of  the  villages 
represented,  and  the  heads  of  households.  The 
tribal  character  of  the  movement  made  itself  felt, 
for  each  group  was  again  subdivided  into  villages, 
and  then  into  families.  But  this  gregarious  char- 
acter of  a tribal  movement  had  its  influence  only 
to  a certain  extent.  There  was  not  a man  or 
woman  who  was  not  called  upon  to  give  evidence 
that  they  had  entered  upon  a new  life.  The 


A MODERN  PENTECOST 


291 


individual  had  to  stand  for  himself,  and  each  one 
was  made  to  feel  that  such  was  the  case. 

I asked  the  old  preachers  many  questions 
about  those  days  at  Vellumpilly.  One  of  them 
told  me : “ I was  on  one  side  with  about  one 
hundred  people.  The  Dora  came  to  me  and 
said : ‘ Do  you  know  all  these  people  ? ’ I said  : 
‘ I do  not  know  them  all.’  He  looked  them  over 
with  me ; he  had  been  in  their  villages.  He  told 
me  to  send  away  all  those  whom  I did  not  know, 
but  they  would  not  go,  they  stayed  around  the 
camp.  But  I wrote  down  the  names  of  those 
only  whom  I knew.”  This  was  evidently  the 
general  mode  of  proceeding. 

They  told  me  the  story  of  one  of  the  assistant 
preachers,  who  to  this  day  likes  to  magnify  his 
office,  and  showed  the  same  characteristic  then. 
He  had  brought  a crowd  of  people  with  him, 
five  hundred  at  least.  The  Missionary  saw  them, 
and  called  for  the  preacher  who  was  responsible 
for  that  part  of  the  field.  “ For  how  many  of 
these  people  can  you  bear  witness  that  they  are 
really  Christians  ? ” He  selected  about  ten ; for 
the  rest  he  hesitated  to  take  any  responsibility. 


292  THE  POWER  OF  CHRISTIANITY 


It  was  an  evil  day  for  the  assistant  preacher. 
Some  plain  words  were  said  to  him  by  the  Dora, 
and  he  and  all  his  company  were  sent  home. 

One  of  my  oft-repeated  questions  was  : “ How 
could  you  tell  that  a man  or  woman  was  a 
Christian  ? ” They  said  : “ We  had  many  ways 
of  telling.  When  men  and  women  prayed  and 
sang  hymns,  we  knew  that  Divine  life  was  in 
them.  But  we  knew,  too,  when  they  stopped 
drinking  sarai,  and  fighting,  and  eating  carrion, 
and  working  on  Sundays,  there  was  a change  in 
them,  and  we  could  tell.”  Most  of  those  who 
were  baptized  at  Vellum pilly  were  really  be- 
lievers before  the  famine,  but  for  some  reason 
they  had  held  back.  The  preachers  could  tell  by 
the  attitude  of  responsiveness  that  a change  had 
been  wrought.  They  seem  to  have  felt  more  care 
and  anxiety  about  those  who  were  refused  the 
ordinance  than  those  who  received  it.  Hundreds 
must  have  been  sent  away.  Even  to  the  present 
time  there  are  villages  where  the  preachers  are 
greeted  with  words  like  these : “ We  came  to 
Vellumpilly  to  have  our  ‘juttus’  cut  off,  and  to 
be  baptized,  but  you  refused.  Now  go  away  to 


A MODERN  PENTECOST 


293 


those  whom  you  then  accepted.  We  do  not 
want  you.” 

On  the  first  day,  July  2nd,  1878,  a beginning 
was  made— 614  were  baptized  ; on  the  next  day 
2,222  followed  ; on  the  third  day  there  were  700 
more, — making  3,536  in  three  days.  The  multi- 
tude gathered  on  the  bank  of  the  Gundlacumma 
River,  where  the  water  at  this  season  of  the  year 
is  fairly  deep.  The  six  ordained  preachers  took 
turns,  two  officiating  at  a time.  The  names  of 
the  candidates  were  read.  Without  delay  and 
without  confusion  one  followed  the  other.  As 
one  preacher  pronounced  the  formula  : “ I baptize 
thee  in  the  name  of  the  Father,  the  Son,  and 
the  Holy  Ghost,”  the  other  preacher  had  a candi- 
date before  him,  ready  again  to  speak  those  words, 
sacred  in  the  history  of  the  Church,  and  to  bap- 
tize him  likewise.  And  thus  it  was  possible  to 
immerse  2,222  in  one  day. 

The  Missionary  stood  by,  helping  and  direct- 
ing ; he  did  not  baptize  any  one  during  those 
days.  He  represented  the  link  between  this 
event  on  the  bank  of  an  Indian  river  and  the 
sentiment  of  the  Christian  world.  There  would 


294  THE  POWER  OF  CHRISTIANITY 


be  joy  and  gratitude  in  many  hearts  at  home, 
he  knew.  But  critics,  too,  would  not  be  far  away, 
who  would  charge  him  with  undue  haste  in 
admitting  into  the  Church  of  Christ  a multitude 
who  could  not  have  been  taught  more  than  the 
most  elementary  outline  of  Christian  teaching. 
Years  of  excessive  toil  were  at  hand,  to  be  spent 
in  the  Christian  training  of  this  multitude.  More 
were  coming.  Before  the  year  was  over  9,606 
members  had  been  added  to  the  Church  at  Ongole, 
making  a total  membership  of  13,000.  And  the 
years  that  followed  were  but  a continuation  of 
that  year.  Once  again,  in  1890,  there  was  a 
similar  event,  when  1,671  were  baptized  in  one  day. 

But  what  relation  did  the  famine  have  to  this 
mass-movement  ? The  distress  of  those  two 
years — the  pangs  of  starvation  and  the  ravages 
of  pestilence — undoubtedly  made  many  a soul 
turn  to  that  great  and  merciful  God,  of  whom 
the  Missionary  and  his  assistants  preached  not 
only  in  words  but  in  deeds.  God,  in  His  mighty 
power,  can  make  even  a calamity  like  famine 
serve  as  a means  to  bring  about  His  own  Divine 
ends.  But  while  the  famine  was  one  of  the 


A MODERN  PENTECOST 


295 


conditions  which  favoured  a mass-movement  to- 
ward Christianity  among  the  Madigas,  it  was  not 
a normal,  healthful  condition. 

It  seems  to  me  that  a far  more  prominent 
place  has  been  given  to  the  famine,  as  a condi- 
tion favourable  to  this  movement,  than  it  deserves. 
It  is  true,  first  came  the  famine,  with  its  relief- 
camp  at  the  canal,  and  then  came  the  baptism 
of  thousands.  There  is  here  a temporal  suc- 
cession, which  seems  to  indicate  the  relation  of 
cause  and  effect.  But  I believe  the  movement 
toward  Christianity  would  have  taken  place  in 
the  same  proportion  if  there  had  not  been  a 
famine.  The  Pentecostal  day  on  the  bank  of 
the  Gundlacumma  River  would  not  have  been 
but  for  the  famine ; but  those  same  converts 
would  in  all  probability  have  come,  in  smaller 
companies  at  a time,  but  as  the  outcome  of  a 
steady,  normal  growth. 

The  famine  ushered  in  suddenly  the  second 
period  in  the  history  of  the  Ongole  mission. 
Abruptness  is  inimical  to  the  principle  of  growth 
in  the  moral  and  spiritual,  as  well  as  the  natural 
world.  During  the  ten  years  preceding  the  famine, 


296  THE  POWER  OF  CHRISTIANITY 


the  preachers  did  their  pioneer  work  under  favour- 
able circumstances,  and  the  Missionary  could 
widen  his  borders  and  strengthen  his  work 
throughout.  There  was  normal  growth,  and  the 
converts  came  as  fast  as  the  mission  could  care 
for  them.  The  famine  and  that  which  followed 
was  an  overwhelming  experience.  After  the 
veteran  preachers  had  told  me  much  of  the 
years  before  the  famine,  and  I asked:  “Now  tell 
me  about  the  years  after  the  famine,”  they  asked 
in  turn  : “ What  is  there  to  tell  ? Did  not  thou- 
sands come  ? ” The  events  were  of  such  huge 
proportion  they  could  not  single  out  incidents 
and  remember  detail. 

Starvation  implies  an  experience  that  is  not  an 
elevating  process  to  members  of  even  a strong 
and  noble  race.  The  degraded  Madiga  was 
rendered  more  degraded  by  the  greed  with  which 
he  sought  for  a morsel  of  food.  If  he  had  had 
any  possessions,  a buffalo,  a goat,  he  had  lost 
them.  Emaciated,  sick,  poor  beyond  expression, 
he  had  to  try  to  regain  his  footing  when  the 
famine  was  over.  Any  element  of  sturdy  man- 
hood in  him  had  suffered  a shock  ; he  was  ready 


A MODERN  PENTECOST 


297 


to  lean  upon  any  one  for  support.  In  this  con- 
dition the  mission  took  him  and  sought  to  make 
a man  of  him.  It  is  safe  to  say  that  some  of 
the  most  difficult  problems  which  have  confronted 
the  mission  since  that  time  were  born  of  the 
famine. 

As  men  of  the  early  days  of  the  mission  told 
me  their  individual  experience,  I could  mark  the 
steps  essential  in  leading  to  conversion  ; steps 
conscious  to  the  Western  mind,  conscious  also  to 
these  Madiga  men  and  women.  In  their  own 
way  they  had  come  to  a conviction  of  sin — there 
was  repentance,  and  there  were  faith  and  justifi- 
cation. When  the  mass-movement  began,  these 
steps  were  taken  unconsciously ; the  individual 
was  carried  along  to  some  extent  by  the  multi- 
tude. The  Madiga  community  was  shaken  to 
the  foundation  ; individual  experience  was  merged 
in  the  whole.  But  pervading  all  there  was  the 
element  of  that  deep  spiritual  life  of  the  ten 
years  preceding  the  famine.  It  was  as  the  leaven 
that  leavened  the  whole  lump. 

But  the  Madigas  forsook  their  Gurus  of  the 
Rajayogi  sect.  They  brought  t*  die  Missionary 


298  THE  POWER  OF  CHRISTIANITY 


the  idols  that  were  theirs  in  the  Ramanuja  sect. 
Whole  bandy-loads  of  stone  images  of  the  serpent, 
of  the  phallus  of  the  Siva  cult,  were  carted  into 
the  compound  at  Ongole.  The  family  of  the 
Matangi  consulted  with  those  who  had  contri- 
buted toward  the  expense  of  her  initiation,  and 
with  their  permission  the  Christian  preacher  broke 
the  stick  of  the  Matangi  into  pieces  and  tore  the 
basket  into  shreds.  Pots,  decorated  with  shells, 
sacred  to  Ellama,  were  smashed  by  the  hundred. 
It  was  a religious  upheaval  that  swept  away  the 
old  cults  of  the  Madigas  with  a powerful  hand, 
and  there  was  nothing  left  in  their  stead  but 
Jesus  alone. 

Every  degree  of  spiritual  life  and  energy  was 
represented  in  the  years  that  followed.  There  were 
high  courage,  persecutions  unflinchingly  borne, 
and  noble  example  set.  But  there  was  also 
spiritual  apathy,  mental  and  moral  stagnation. 
Bangarapu  Thatiah  brought  a woman  to  me, 
leading  a little  boy  by  the  hand,  five  years  after 
the  famine.  “ This  woman,”  he  said,  “ has  been 
an  honour  to  me  and  to  my  Master,  Jesus  Christ, 
all  over  my  field.  When  she  became  a Christian, 


A MODERN  PENTECOST 


299 


her  husband  said  but  little.  Soon  her  eldest  son 
died,  a bright  lad  of  sixteen.  Her  husband 
began  to  ill-treat  her,  and  to  say  the  boy  had  died 
because  she  refused  to  worship  the  old  swamis. 
Then  another  child  died.  He  insisted  that  she 
must  forsake  the  new  religion  ; he  tied  her  to  a 
tree  and  beat  her ; he  dragged  her  about  the 
ground  by  the  hair,  so  that  bunches  of  her  hair 
remained  in  his  hand.  Through  it  all  her  faith 
in  God  and  His  mercy  has  not  failed.  Her  hus- 
band has  left  her  and  gone  away  with  another 
woman.  Take  her  into  school,” 

This  instance  is  one  of  the  bright  lights  that 
illumine  the  scene.  Does  any  one  care  to  enquire 
about  the  shadows,  the  spurious  characters  that 
have  entered  in,  the  crass  ignorance  and  the  deep 
degradation?  I was  out  on  tour  among  the 
villages  with  my  husband  some  years  ago.  In 
the  shade  of  a tamarind  grove  he  was  preaching 
to  a crowd  of  Madigas  sitting  before  him.  Twenty 
Christians  from  a village  where  nearly  all  had 
reverted  to  heathenism  were  before  him.  He  had 
been  in  their  village  in  the  morning,  had  seen 
the  swamis  to  which  they  were  again  making 


300  THE  POWER  OF  CHRISTIANITY 


puja.  The  men  had  let  their  “ juttus  ” grow. 
The  women  went  about  dirty  and  uncombed, 
quarrelling  and  using  evil  words  to  each  other. 
Carrion  had  been  brought  into  the  village.  There 
were  filth  and  squalor  beyond  telling. 

The  Missionary  described  the  condition  in  which 
he  had  found  them,  and  then  broke  out  into  an 
appeal : “ Oh,  men ! I am  not  ashamed  to  be  the 
Guru  of  poor  people,  for  Christ  said  He  had  come 
that  the  sick  might  be  healed  and  the  poor  have 
the  gospel  preached  to  them.  But  when  I some- 
times see  you  in  your  villages,  where  you  are  weak 
Christians,  then  I have  a pain  in  my  mind,  and 
I ask  myself : ‘ Why  has  God  chosen  me  to  be  the 
Guru  of  such  dirty  people  ? * ” The  men  looked 
at  each  other,  and  the  women  involuntarily  stroked 
down  their  unkempt  hair. 

But  I could  see,  as  I watched  the  faces  of 
these  lowest  specimens  of  an  Indian  Pariah  tribe, 
that,  blunt  as  they  were  to  any  kind  of  teaching, 
they  were  not  without  responsiveness.  I could 
see  the  shame  in  their  faces.  They  were  willing 
to  listen,  and  this  responsiveness  proved  that 
the  spark  of  Divine  life  was  there,  for  the  spiritu- 


A MODERN  PENTECOST 


301 


ally  dead  cannot  hear.  But  alas  for  the  steep 
road  out  of  many  centuries  of  almost  brute 
existence ! 

While  the  Missionary  comes  to  one  village  of 
this  kind,  he  comes  to  many  where  he  can  be  proud 
of  his  people.  Clean  and  tidy  in  their  appear- 
ance and  in  their  houses,  they  come  out  to  meet 
him,  the  heads  of  households  coming  forward  to 
do  the  honours  of  the  occasion.  A school-house 
in  the  village,  and  children  proudly  holding  slates 
under  their  arms,  give  evidence  of  the  status  of 
the  village.  The  Munsiff  and  Karnam  come  over 
to  say  a respectful  salaam  to  the  Dora,  because 
the  conduct  of  the  Christians  has  taught  them  to 
honour  this  Dora  and  his  religion.  Crowds  come 
to  hear  him  preach,  and  Sudras  are  among  them, 
sitting  attentively  on  one  side,  saying,  “ It  is  a 
good  religion.  Let  us  listen.” 

There  is  an  atmosphere  of  spiritual  life  and 
energy  abroad  in  such  a village.  And  the  ques- 
tion comes : “ Is  there  any  power  on  earth,  save 
Christianity,  that  could  thus  uplift  a community 
within  the  short  space  of  one  generation?” 


CONCLUSION 


During  many  centuries  the  Dravidian  village 
community  of  Southern  India  has  remained  prac- 
tically unchanged  in  its  organization.  The  simple 
wants  of  the  villagers  were  met  on  the  principle 
of  mutual  service.  Content  with  their  condition, 
there  was  a tendency  to  industrial  and  social 
stagnation,  while  the  stimulating  influence  of  com- 
petition was  little  known  among  them.  Of  late 
years  disintegrating  forces  have  been  at  work,  and 
ancient  Dravidian  institutions  are  giving  way  to 
communal  life  on  a new  basis. 

In  the  old  days  there  were  common  holdings 
of  land.  Groups  of  craftsmen  served  the  village, 
and  in  turn  received  their  share  of  the  harvest,  or 
other  payment  in  kind.  The  village  as  a whole 
was  responsible  for  the  revenue  to  be  paid  to 
the  ruling  Rajah.  The  English  Government,  at 
the  present  time,  deals  with  the  individual  cul- 


302 


CONCLUSION 


303 


tivator  for  the  payment  of  revenue.  Taxes  are 
paid  in  coin  ; the  system  of  mutual  service,  there- 
fore, becomes  unpopular,  since  each  one  learns 
to  reckon  the  money  value  of  his  services.  In- 
stead of  joint  holdings  of  land,  the  evolution  of 
individual  property  is  in  progress.  Formerly 
lawlessness  and  petty  warfare  necessitated  a state 
of  cohesion  in  the  village  community.  The  peace 
and  prosperity  of  the  present  time  permits  of 
internal  rivalries  ; there  are  competition  and  the 
desire  to  excel.  The  joint  interests  of  the  old 
system  are  giving  way  to  individual  interests.  . 
There  is  disintegration  on  every  hand. 

The  Madigas,  too,  are  affected  by  these 
changes.  They,  too,  are  individually  responsible  to 
Government  for  the  payment  of  taxes,  and  they 
therefore  seek  employment  which  yields  payment 
in  coin.  There  is  a slow  but  steady  breaking 
away  from  their  former  dependence  upon  the 
Sudras.  Their  serfdom  as  a tribe  is  slowly  being 
transformed  into  individual  service  at  stated 
wages.  The  Yettis,  as  the  unpaid  servants  of 
the  Karnam,  are  no  longer  looked  upon  as  neces- 
sary adjuncts  of  the  village  administration.  Their 


304  THE  POWER  OF  CHRISTIANITY 


number  is  gradually  being  reduced,  and  their 
small  holdings  of  land  revert  to  Government, 
because  it  prefers  to  pay  its  servants  in  coin. 

The  lot  of  the  Madigas  has  greatly  improved. 
No  petty  Rajah  can  oppress  them  and  force  them 
into  servitude.  They  are  still  the  burden-bearers 
of  the  country  ; but  not  as  in  former  times,  when 
roads  for  traffic  were  few  and  railways  unknown. 
They  have  a right  to  say  how  heavy  a load  they 
can  carry.  Nor  is  the  Karnam  the  recipient  of 
their  pay.  When  English  gentlemen  first  began 
to  travel  over  the  district,  they  asked  the  Karnam, 
when  they  heard  the  clamorous  entreaties  of  the 
coolies  for  their  pay,  how  much  he  was  giving 
to  them.  Gradually  the  rates  of  payment  were 
adjusted,  much  to  the  advantage  of  the  cooley. 

The  Madiga  is  now  a free  British  subject, 
though  he  has  only  a very  dim  realization  of  the 
fact.  So  far  as  the  law  can  do  this,  the  English 
Government  has  set  the  praedial  slaves  of  India 
free.  Practically  the  Madiga  may  be  the  serf 
of  the  Sudra,  who  has  secured  the  right  to  his 
perpetual  servitude  in  ways  that  are  lawful 
according  to  ancient  custom,  and  sanctioned  by 


CONCLUSION 


305 


the  laws  of  Manu.  But  in  the  sight  of  the 
English  Government  such  contracts  are  divested 
of  their  strong  element  of  slavery. 

While  formerly  law  courts  did  not  exist  for  the 
Pariah,  the  equity  of  English  law  to-day,  in 
principle  at  least,  knows  no  distinction  between 
man  and  man.  With  a true  sense  of  what  it 
owes  to  the  despised  class  among  its  subjects, 
the  Government  of  India  has  recently  decided 
upon  the  name  Panchama , “fifth  caste,”  as  a just 
and  honourable  designation  for  the  tribes  which 
have  never  found  a place  in  the  Hindu  caste- 
system.  Religious  liberty  has  been  ensured  to 
all  subjects  of  the  Indian  empire,  and  much  is 
being  done  to  place  education  within  the  reach 
of  all — even  of  the  most  lowly. 

Outward  conditions  have  been  created  that 
make  it  possible  for  the  Pariahs  to  become  edu- 
cated and  prosperous,  even  though  Sudra  and 
Brahmin  still  regard  them  as  outcasts.  But  who 
shall  plant  in  their  hearts  the  desire  for  advance- 
ment? Much  lies  in  the  power  of  environment; 
yet  a motive  within  to  impel  forward  makes 
environment  more  effective.  The  moral  and 


W.S.S. 


20 


306  THE  POWER  OF  CHRISTIANITY 


social  reformation  of  India  depends  to  a large 
extent  upon  the  action  of  internal  forces. 

From  what  source  are  these  internal  forces  to 
be  expected  ? Education  cannot,  single-handed, 
produce  them.  A desire  for  education  must  be 
created  before  its  beneficent  task  can  be  said  to 
have  begun.  Can  religion  form  the  motive  power  ? 
When  Christianity  comes  to  the  Pariahs  of  India, 
it  comes  not  merely  as  a religion.  If  it  is  true 
to  the  teachings  of  its  Founder,  it  comes  to  create 
a new  environment,  as  well  as  to  save  the  soul 
from  death.  Has  Christianity  in  the  case  of  the 
Madigas  shown  itself  equal  to  this  emergency? 

The  Madigas  in  several  districts  of  the  Telugu 
country  have  become  Christians  in  sufficient 
numbers  to  make  it  possible  to  say  that  their 
communities  have  been  Christianized,  so  far  as 
that  is  possible,  in  the  short  period  of  thirty  years. 
We  cannot,  as  we  regard  the  Christian  Madiga 
communities,  draw  sharp  lines  of  demarcation, 
and  say : This  has  been  achieved  by  the  Mission, 
and  that  by  the  Government.  The  action  of 
internal  and  external  forces  has  been  blended. 
The  Mission  has  had  a powerful  ally  in  the 


CONCLUSION 


307 


Government,  and,  in  turn,  the  Mission  has  deserved 
the  recognition  of  Government  as  one  of  the  most 
beneficent  forces  within  its  borders. 

In  the  districts  where  the  movement  among 
the  Madigas  toward  Christianity  was  strongest,  a 
social  revolution  on  a small  scale  has  taken  place. 
The  turning  to  Christianity  meant  a breaking 
away  from  ancient  customs  and  associations.  It 
meant  a change  in  the  relation  of  the  Madiga 
to  the  village  in  general,  but  also  a change  in  the 
Madiga  hamlet  itself.  On  the  old  tribal  lines 
the  Christian  community  is  being  built  up.  Ves- 
tiges of  tribal  characteristics  are  being  assimilated 
by  the  new  communal  life  on  a Christian  basis. 
The  Madiga  headman,  and  the  heads  of  house- 
holds to  assist  him,  are  now  the  “ Peddalu,”  the 
elders,  of  the  Christian  village.  But  their  simple 
village  jurisdiction  has  undergone  a complete 
transformation. 

An  ethical  standard  has  been  given  to  the 
Madigas  by  Christianity  that  is  antagonistic  to 
the  old.  Formerly  they  regarded  as  sin  the 
neglect  of  the  household  and  village  gods,  the 
theft  that  was  detected,  the  social  transgression 


308  THE  POWER  OF  CHRISTIANITY 


so  flagrant  that  it  called  for  reproof  from  the 
Madiga  headman.  Now  they  understand  that  sin 
taints  the  motives  of  man,  and  renders  him  prone 
to  choose  that  which  is  evil.  Formerly,  when  a 
man  went  out  to  steal,  he  first  bowed  before  the 
swami,  requesting  help,  and  promising  a share 
in  the  spoil  if  carried  away  undetected.  Now 
“ Thou  shalt  not  steal ! ” rings  out  with  the  un- 
mistakable clearness  of  the  Christian  ethical  code. 

The  hierarchy  of  self-appointed  Gurus  is  sup- 
planted by  an  organized  band  of  Christian 
preachers.  They  do  not  expect  devout  reverence 
for  their  persons,  nor  do  they  sit  down  and  say, 
“ Boil  rice  ! Cut  a fowl ! Bring  sarai ! ” Perhaps 
the  self-support  of  native  churches  would  be 
further  advanced  if  the  preachers  had  more  of 
the  belligerent  spirit  of  the  ordinary  Guru.  Their 
connection  with  the  Mission  has  given  the 
preachers  an  air  of  self-respect  which  stoops 
neither  to  begging  nor  demanding.  They  do  not 
mystify  their  followers  with  mantras  and  mystic 
formulae.  Their  teaching  is  pure  monotheism  ; 
and  the  ethical  ideal  which  they  place  before  the 
people  is  mbodied  in  the  God-man,  Jesus  Christ. 


CONCLUSION 


309 


If  the  Madigas  could  become  landholders  and 
independent  cultivators,  they  would  soon  be  able 
to  educate  their  children  and  support  their 
preachers.  The  last  resource  left  to  the  Sudras, 
as  they  try  to  keep  their  former  serfs  in  their 
servile  condition,  is  the  attempt  to  frustrate  any 
move  on  their  part  to  own  land  and  cultivate  it. 
Even  though  a Madiga  may  come  into  posses- 
sion of  land,  the  Sudras  have  means  of  putting 
obstacles  in  his  way,  so  that  only  with  great 
difficulty  can  he  raise  his  crops. 

The  Mission,  aided  liberally  by  Government, 
has  provided  general  education  for  the  Madigas. 
At  Ongole  there  is  even  opportunity  for  the 
Madiga  lad  to  obtain  a college  education.  But 
the  important  moral  factor  of  self-help  is  lacking. 
Many  families  are  so  poor  that  they  regard  it 
as  a sacrifice,  however  gladly  offered,  when  they 
send  their  sons  and  daughters  to  school,  instead 
of  keeping  them  at  home  to  help  earn  cooley 
for  the  family.  Not  until  they  are  able  to  carry 
the  financial  burdens  of  the  new  communal  life, 
that  has  been  grafted  upon  the  old,  will  they 
gain  the  full  benefit  of  Christian  civilization. 


310  THE  POWER  OF  CHRISTIANITY 

Industrial  education  could  do  much  toward  further 
emancipating  the  Madiga.  The  only  industry 
now  known  to  him  is  leather  work,  done  with 
crude  tools,  according  to  ancient  usage.  This 
need  also  the  Mission  is  beginning  to  meet. 

Has  Christianity  been  equal  to  the  task  of 
furnishing  the  motive  for  the  social  as  well  as 
religious  regeneration  of  the  Madigas  ? Emphati- 
cally it  has.  The  Madigas  say  : “ Our  ancestress, 
Arunzodi,  cursed  us,  saying,  ‘ Though  you  work 
and  toil , it  shall  not  raise  your  condition.  Un- 
clothed and  untaught  you  shall  be>  ignorant  and 
despised , the  slaves  of  all.'  During  many  cen- 
turies the  curse  rested  heavily  upon  us.  Chris- 
tianity has  removed  it.  It  is  no  more.” 


REFERENCES 


A Comparative  Grammar  of  the  Dravidian  or  South  Indian 
Family  of  Languages.  Rev.  R.  Caldwell,  D.D.,  LL.D. 
London,  1875.  Second  Edition. 

The  Indian  Village  Community.  B.  H.  Baden-Powell, 
M.A.,  C.I.E.  1896. 

On  the  Original  Inhabitants  of  Bharatavarsa,  or  India. 
Gustav  Oppert,  Ph.D.  1893. 

Tree  and  Serpent  Worship.  J.  Fergusson,  D.C.L.,M.R.A.S. 

1873. 

Religious  Thought  and  Life  in  India.  Sir  Monier  Williams. 

1885. 

Genealogie  der  Malabarischen  Gotter.  B.  Ziegenbalg.  1867. 
See  p.  157,  Legend  of  Ellama  ; p.  42,  Enumeration  of 
Saktis. 

The  Shaktas.  H.  H.  Wilson,  LL.D.  Calcutta  Review , 
No.  47.  1855. 

Hindu  Manners,  Customs,  and  Ceremonies.  Abbd  J.  A. 
Dubois.  1897. 

Memorandum  on  the  Progress  of  the  Madras  Presidency 
during  the  last  Forty  Years  of  British  Administration. 
S.  Srinivasa  Raghavaiyangar,  B.A.,  C.I.E.  1893. 

New  India ; or,  India  in  Transition.  H.  J.  S.  Cotton 
Bengal  Civil  Service.  1885. 

A Manual  of  the  Administration  of  the  Madras  Presidency. 

1886. 

A Manual  of  Coorg.  Rev.  G.  Richter.  1870. 


312 


REFERENCES 


The  Ramayana  of  Valmiki.  Translated  by  Manmatha  Nath 
Dutt,  M.A.  Calcutta,  1892.  See  Books  III.  and  IV. 
The  Mahabharata,  Anusana-parvan.  Verses  1872  ff. 

The  Dynasties  of  the  Kanarese  Districts  of  the  Bombay 
Presidency,  by  J.  F.  Fleet.  1882.  See  p.  10.  A later 
edition  of  the  same  work,  to  be  found  in  the  Official 
Gazetteer  of  the  Bombay  Presidency,  vol.  i.  part  ii.  1896. 
See  p.  293.  A picture  of  the  Canarese  inscription,  de- 
ciphered by  Mr.  Fleet,  is  found  in  The  Indian  Anti- 
quary, vol.  viii.  p.  241.  1879. 

The  Kadambari  of  Bana.  Translated  from  the  Sanscrit  by 
C.  M.  Ridding.  1896.  See  pp.  30,  31. 

The  Katha  Sarit  Sagara  ; or,  Ocean  of  the  Streams  of 
Story.  By  Sri  Somadeva  Bhatta.  Translated  from  the 
Sanscrit  by  C.  H.  Tawney,  M.A.  1880.  Two  volumes. 
See  Matanga  in  the  Index. 

The  Mackenzie  Collection,  Calcutta,  1828.  By  H.  H. 
Wilson.  See  vol.  ii.  p.  41.  In  the  Nalakanara  books  of 
local  history  the  “female  warrior  Matangi”  occurs. 
Customs  of  the  Comti  Caste.  Major  J.  S.  F.  Mackenzie. 

1S78.  The  Indian  Antiquary , vol  viii.  p.  36. 

On  the  Study  of  the  South  Indian  Vernaculars.  Rev.  G. 
U.  Pope,  D.D.  Journal  Royal  Asiatic  Society.  XVII., 
New  Series,  p.  163.  1885.  See  the  story  of  the  poet, 

Tiruvalluvar. 

An  Account  of  the  Religious  Opinions  and  Observances  ot 
the  Khonds  of  Gumsoor  and  Boad.  Captain  S.  E. 
Macpherson.  Journal  Royal  Asiatic  Society , vol.  vii. 

1843. 

Remarks  on  the  Origin  and  History  of  the  Parawas.  Simon 
Casie  Chetty.  Journal  Royal  Asiatic  Society , vol.  iv. 

1837. 

The  Geography  of  Rama’s  Exile.  F.  E.  Pargiter,  B.A. 
Jour?ial  Royal  Asiatic  Society.  1894. 


REFERENCES 


313 


The  Rig  Veda,  Mandala  x.  85.  See  the  Bridal  Hymn. 
Samkhya  und  Yoga.  R.  Garbe.  Encyclopaedia  of  Indo- 
Aryan  Research.  1 896. 

The  Religions  of  India.  A.  Barth.  1882.  See  p.  202  on 
Mother-worship. 

From  Darkness  to  Light.  The  Story  of  a Telugu.  Rev. 
J.  E.  Clough,  D.D.  Boston.  1882.  Third  edition. 

The  History  of  the  Telugu  Mission  of  the  American 
Baptist  Missionary  Union.  Rev.  D.  Downie,  D.D.  Phila- 
delphia. 1893.  This  book  gives  the  history  of  the  Mission 
in  general,  of  which  Ongole  is  a part.  During  a period  of 
thirty  years  the  pioneers  of  the  Telugu  Mission  believed 
that,  “ God  has  a great  people  among  the  Telugus,”  while 
but  few  cared  for  their  message.  Rev.  Lyman  Jewett,  D.D., 
visited  Ongole  repeatedly,  when  the  Mission  had  but  its  one 
station,  at  Nellore.  In  1865,  after  pleading  with  the  Society 
at  home  not  to  abandon  the  field,  though  barren  and  hard, 
he  returned  to  India  with  Rev.  J.  E.  Clough,  D.D.,  and  his 
wife,  the  missionaries  for  Ongole.  During  the  first  ten  years 
at  Ongole,  a town  situated  180  miles  north  of  Madras,  near 
the  coast,  the  foundations  were  laid,  there  was  a steady  in- 
crease, and  when  the  famine  of  1876-8  began,  the  Ongole 
Church  counted  3,269  members.  In  July,  1878,  within  three 
days,  3,536  were  baptized,  and  during  that  year  9,606  were 
added  to  the  Church  at  Ongole.  In  1883,  the  Church  mem- 
bership had  increased  to  21,000,  and  the  nominal  adherents 
counted  from  four  to  five  times  that  number.  The  first 
division  of  the  large  field  was  therefore  imperative.  The 
four  Taluks— small  counties — lying  farthest  away  from  On- 
gole were  made  separate  stations.  Ten  years  later  the  work 
at  Ongole  had  again  assumed  unwieldy  proportions,  when  a 
second  similar  division  took  place.  The  movement  spread, 
and  to-day  the  Mission  counts  twenty-six  stations,  with  a 


3M 


REFERENCES 


membership  of  53,748.  Nearly  all  of  these  have  come  from 
the  Madigas  living  in  the  Nellore,  Kurnool,  and  Kistnah 
districts  of  the  Telugu  country.  The  Census  of  1891  gives 
the  total  number  of  Christians  in  the  American  Baptist 
Telugu  Mission  as  84,158,  by  counting  many  of  the  ad- 
herents. 


The  Numerical  Status  of  the  Madigas. 
The  entire  population  of  India,  287,223,431. 
The  Leather  Workers  of  India. 


Northern  India(Chamars  * 

. 

11,258,105 

IMochis 

961,133 

Southern  India  {Madi8as  • 

927,339 

IChakilyans 

• • 

445,366 

Central  India  . Bambhi 

• • 

220,596 

«3.8i2,539 

Other  Pariahs  in  India.  • 

• • 

7.157,740 

The  entire  Pariah  population 

of  India  . 

20,970,279 

The  Telugu  population  of  Southern  India 

17,003,358 

The  Madigas  are  the  leather  workers  of  the  Telugu 
country,  and  as  a large  proportion  of  the  Chakilyans,  the 
leather  workers  of  the  Tamil  country,  speak  Telugu,  they 
appear  to  be  immigrants  from  the  Telugu  districts. 

(From  the  Census  of  1891.) 


INDEX 


Aborigines  and  Aryans,  16, 
25. 

— chieftainship  of,  29. 

— cults  of,  16,  89,  105. 

— and  Siva,  84,  117. 

— and  Vishnu,  116. 

— and  human  sacrifice,  75, 

101. 

— and  English  law,  217, 305. 
Adimata,  63. 

Adijambuvu,  13-20,  30,  41. 
Adisakti,  14,  16. 

Adisesha,  72,  74. 

Adivaramu,  63. 

Agastya,  55. 

Aihole,  temple  at,  23. 
Ankalamah,  77,  122,  195, 
214. 

Arminian  doctrine,  107. 
Arundhati,  55. 

Arunzodi,  54-57,  310. 

Aryan  race,  9. 

— cults,  82,  1 1 7. 

— conquests,  9,  13. 

— hermits,  10,  16,  21,  82. 

— customs,  11,  31,  174,  190. 


Asceticism,  58,  81. 

Atri,  55. 

Baal,  groves  of,  74. 

Bainurdu,  the,  64,  69. 
Banabhatta,  25,  102. 

Baputla  Taluk,  159. 

Bhang,  163. 

Bhagavata  Purana,  233. 
Bhagvatam,  223,  227. 
Blumenbach,  8. 

Brahma  and  Adijambuvu,  14. 

— and  Yogi  doctrine,  162. 
Brahminical  exaggerations, 

12,  29,  59. 

— hierarchy,  1 1,  80,  88. 

— settlers,  12,  34. 

Brahmins,  the,  intrigue  of, 

34- 

— feast  for,  29. 

— legend  about,  49,  52-55, 

85. 

— and  Madigas,  39,  216, 

253. 

— and  Chandalas,  80. 

— and  Matangi  cult,  64,  76. 


INDEX 


316 

Brahmins  and  aboriginal 
cults,  82,  89. 

Buddhist  doctrines,  75,  101. 
Buffalo,  legend  of  a,  49. 
Bundelkhand,  18. 

Cabaras,  the,  25. 

Caldwell,  9. 

Calvinistic  doctrine,  107. 
Canarese  country,  17. 

— inscription,  23. 

— language,  10. 
Carrion-eating,  41,  15 1,  185, 

247,  291. 

Caste,  development  of,  11, 
32. 

— loss  of,  251. 

— in  Nasriah  sect,  164. 

— and  reformers,  163,  222. 

— and  Madigas,  35, 197,222, 

253- 

Caucasian  race,  9. 

Chalukya  dynasty,  23. 
Cliandala  element,  78. 

— maiden,  28. 

— origin,  78,  88. 
Chermanishta  sect,  103-109, 

220,  227. 

Coorg,  59-61. 

Dandaka,  the  forest,  18,  26, 
80. 

Dasiri,  Madiga,  55,  190. 
Dasyus,  10. 


Delhi,  88. 

Dewan,  36,  38. 

Dora — gentleman,  113,  138, 
148,  187,  2 1 1,  236,  252. 
Dorasani  — lady,  114,  148, 
189,  282. 

Dravidian  racial  affinity,  8, 
61. 

— customs,  11. 

— literature,  10,  21. 

— dynasties,  18,  23,  33. 

— tribes,  8,  32,  44,  59,  94. 

— village  community,  31, 

302. 

Drums,  Madiga,  209,  215 
Dubois,  Abb£,  101. 

Durga,  102. 

Durgapisacha,  King,  27. 
Dyaus,  73. 

Eilama,  possessed  by,  63. 

— and  the  great  Saktis, 

78. 

— legend  of,  84-86. 

— worshippers  of,  181,297. 

Family  cohesion,  6. 

Famine,  271-284. 

Fleet,  J.  F.,  24. 

Gandharvas,  the,  85. 

Gheras,  the,  18. 

Godavery  district,  120,  135. 
Goomsur,  91. 


INDEX 


317 


Government,  English,  and 
human  sacrifice,  75,  101. 

— and  famine  relief,  274, 

283. 

— and  taxes,  303. 

— and  Rajah  of  Goomsur, 

9i- 

— and  Madigas,  35,  126, 

217,  254,  306. 
Gundlacumma  river,  66. 
Gurus — religious  teachers, 

customs  of,  1 3 1,  144, 
168. 

— incident  of,  133,  169. 

— reverence  for,  144,  167, 

308. 

— teaching  of,  104,  115,  1 19, 

157. 

— worthlessness  of,  131, 135. 

Haeckel,  8. 

Hanuman,  20. 

Headman,  Sudra,  33. 

— Madiga,  44,  64,  143,  172. 
Holdings  of  land,  32,  304. 
Hymns  of  the  Nasriah  sect, 

170,  175,  184. 

— Christian,  184,  289. 

— bridal,  in  Rig  Veda,  55. 

Idols,  164,  168,  176,  226,  238, 
241. 

Immortality,  202-206. 
Incompatibility,  social,  16. 


Indra,  10,  80. 

Inscriptions,  22. 

Jamadagni,  72,  86. 
Jambavan,  17-20. 
Jambavanta,  17. 

Jambu,  17. 

Juttu— lock  of  hair — signifi- 
cance of,  145,  15 1,  292, 
299. 

— incident  of  cutting,  145, 

196,  215. 

Kali,  102. 

Kamadhenu,  12-15. 

Kanigiri  Taluk,  120. 

Karnam,  the  office  of,  33. 

— persecution  by,  210. 

— and  Yetti,  37,  205,  303. 

— and  Madigas,  252,  304. 
Katachchuris,  the,  23. 
Kausika,  55. 

Kaveri  river,  84. 

Khonds,  the,  94. 

Kolarian  race,  8. 

Komati  Chetty,  dishonesty 
of,  277. 

— marriage  customs  of,  47. 

— wealth  of,  46. 

— as  money-lenders,  46, 133. 
Krishna,  the  god,  218,  225. 
Krishna  river,  18,  68. 
Kshatriyas,  34. 

Kumara  Rama,  87. 


3i8 

Kurral,  the,  57,  59. 


INDEX 


Lanka,  the  island,  19. 
Legends,  trustworthiness  of, 
24. 

— of  Adijambuvu,  13-20. 

— of  Arunzodi,  54-57. 

— of  Ellama,  84-86. 

— of  the  Komatis,  49. 

— of  the  Matangi,  71. 

— of  Vasugi,  57. 

— of  woman  in  Coorg,  60. 

— of  Veerabramham,  118. 
Lemuria,  9. 

Logan,  9. 

Mackenzie,  Major,  48. 
Madiga,  derivation  of  name, 

23. 

— clannish  spirit  of,  145, 

179. 

— headman,  44,  143,  172. 

— idea  of  immortality,  202. 

— poverty  of,  42. 

Madras,  91,  274. 

Madras  Presidency,  50,  94. 
Madura,  57. 

Mahabharata,  79. 
Mahalakshmi,  91-94,  194. 
Malas,  relation  to  Madigas, 

185,  222. 

— priests  among,  219,  246. 
Malabar,  59-61,  78,  86. 
Malayalim  language,  10. 


Mangalisa,  22. 

Mansion  House  Fund,  284. 
Mantras — prayers,  145,  170, 
226,  239. 

Manu,  laws  of,  305. 

Marriage  customs,  40, 47,  56, 
189. 

Matanga,  masc .,  interpreta- 
tion of,  23,  79,  88. 

— the  king,  27. 

— the  sage,  79. 

— the  ascetic,  80. 

— the  leader,  25. 

Matangi,  fem.^  interpretation 

of,  23,  63,  79,  88. 

Makkalu,  24. 

— and  Komatis,  48. 

— displeasure  of,  182. 

— description  of  cult,  62-76. 

— in  legends,  79-89. 

— the  female  warrior,  87. 
Matriarchate,  73. 

Matris— mothers,  99,  178, 

209. 

Migrankadatta,  27. 
Miraculous  power  of  Nas- 
riah,  163. 

— of  Arunzodi,  54. 

— of  Vasugi,  58. 

— of  woman  in  Coorg,  60. 
Mohammed  the  Third,  87. 
Mohammedan,  87,  159,  21 1. 
Mongolian  race,  9. 

Munsiff,  the,  office  of,  32. 


INDEX 


319 


Munsiff,  persecution  by, 
248-263. 

— mother  of  a,  177. 

Mysore  district,  48. 

Naga,  180. 

Nagarpamah,  180. 
Narsaravapetta,  160. 

Nasriah  the  reformer,  158- 
161. 

— sect,  162-165. 

— and  Christianity,  204. 

— discussion  on,  194. 

Ornaments  of  women,  189, 
191. 

— of  men,  130. 

Oudh,  the  house  of,  18. 

Pallavas,  the,  18. 

Pam  pa,  the  lake,  81. 
Panchama,  305. 
Parameswara,  22a 
Parasu-Rama,  84. 

Parawas,  the,  83. 

Pariah,  16,  46,  55,  61,  78,  85, 
305- 

Parvati,  71,  73,  83,  89,  106, 
214. 

Penoocondah,  50. 

Perantalu,  description  of, 
99,  100. 

— incident  of,  179. 

Podili  Taluk,  38. 


Poleramah,  122,  194,  250, 
267. 

Polygamy,  149. 

Polytheism,  5. 

Possession,  dance  of,  65-69, 
93,  251. 

Pothuluri  Veerabramham, 
117,  135,  222. 

Prithivi,  73. 

Puja — worship,  sacrifice,  97, 
142,  1 8 r,  225,  239,  281. 
Puranas,  the,  83,  102,  233. 

Rakshasas,  the,  19. 

Rajah  and  King  Matanga, 
28. 

— visits  of,  36. 

— grants  from,  36,  205. 

— taxes  levied  by,  29,  39. 

— of  Goomsur,  91-93. 

— of  Venkatagiri,  205. 
Rajayogi  sect,  teaching  of, 

115,  127. 

— disciples  of,  117,  135, 

146,  220. 

Rama,  prayer  to,  118. 

— and  Jamba  van,  18. 

— and  Savari,  80-82. 
Ramanujacarya,  107,  219. 
Ramanuja  sect,  explanation 

of,  106-109. 

— and  Madigas,  116. 

— priests  of,  116,  219. 
Ramaswami,  14 1,  153. 


320 


INDEX 


Ramayana,  the,  17,  80,  82, 
233- 

Ravana,  19. 

Reddis,  the,  65. 
Re-incarnation,  83,  1 1 8. 
Reformers,  117,  163. 

Rig  Veda,  10,  55,  73 
Rishis,  10. 

Sacrifice,  66,  75,  92,  101. 
Saivism,  84,  89. 

Saktis,  the  ten  great,  77,  78, 
102,  214. 

Saktism  in  Nasriah  sect,  164. 

— and  Matangi  cult,  73. 

— and  Perantalu,  100. 

— and  Chermanishta  sect, 

105. 

Sanscrit  authors,  25,  26. 

— academy,  57. 

— dictionaries,  56. 

— epics,  22,  79,  80. 

— dialects,  n. 

— learning,  16,  21,  224. 
Sanyasi,  162,  168. 

Sarai — arrack,  134,  144,  163, 
185,  291. 

Scythian,  9,  73,  95. 

Sect,  Nasriah,  158-166,  194. 

— Chermanishta,  103-109, 

220,  227. 

— Ramanuja,  106,  116,  219. 

— Rajayogi,  117,  146,  220. 
Serfdom,  39. 


Serpent  worship,  antiquity 
of,  73,  180. 

and  Matangi  cult,  73. 

and  human  sacrifice, 

75- 

Shastra,  26,  127. 

Sita,  18-20. 

Siva,  curse  of,  29. 

— worshipper  of,  64,  118, 

214,  220. 

— consort  of,  71,  73,  83,  106. 

— and  Dravidians,  14,  83,  89. 
Slavery,  35. 

Somadeva  Bhatta,  26. 

Sudra  servant,  34,  37. 

— landholder,  39,  208. 

— opinion,  7,  122,  153. 

— caste,  34,  65. 

— and  Ellama,  64. 

— and  Madigas,  40, 207, 248, 

303. 

Sugriva,  19. 

Swami— god,  97,  171,  215, 
239- 

Talibottu,  189. 

Taluk — a small  county,  65, 
J20,  159. 

Tamil,  10,  57. 

Tamurdu — younger  brother, 

213. 

Taxes,  29,  39,  303. 

Telugu,  10,  87. 

Teutons,  the,  74. 


INDEX 


321 


Theism,  5. 

Tiruvalluvar,  57. 
Tiprantakamu,  158,  165, 

193. 

Totems,  18. 

Trade,  133,  136,  184. 
Triambaila,  King,  83. 

Tribe,  institutions  of,  32,  307. 

— distinctness  of,  6,  44. 

— records  of,  22. 

— wars  of,  31. 

— head  of,  17,  21,  3a 

Ursa  Major,  56. 

Valavisu  Purana,  83. 
Valluvas,  the,  16. 
Vaishnavism,  84,  89. 
Vaishnavite  reformers,  107, 
219. 

Vaisya  traders,  34,  50. 
Vasishta,  55. 

Vasugi,  57-59- 
Vellamanu,  13-16. 
Venkatagiri,  Rajah  of,  205. 
Venkateswarurdu,  238. 
Vijayanagar,  50. 

Village  community,  31,  210, 
302. 

Vishnu,  consort  of,  108. 

— worshipper  of,  64,  220. 

— incarnations  of,  116. 


Vishnu,  idols  of,  116,  164. 

— and  positive  evil,  95. 

Widowhood  enforced,  174. 

— and  ornaments,  190. 

— of  caste  women,  99. 
Woman  and  gods,  99. 

— and  forces  of  nature,  61, 

100. 

— the  Aryan,  18,  59. 
Worship  of  nature,  73,  105. 

— of  the  serpent,  67,  73. 

— of  trees,  74. 

— of  demons,  95,  203. 

— of  matris,  99. 

— of  Perantalu,  99,  179. 

— of  Nagarpamah,  181. 

— of  Sakti,  73,  180. 

Yetti,  the,  and  the  Rajah, 

36. 

— — and  the  Karnam,  37, 

208,  249,  303. 

as  news-bearers,  147, 

171,  173,  263. 

as  bearers  of  letters, 

37,  205. 

Yogi,  the,  doctrine,  162,  164. 

— teachers,  5,  117. 

— practice,  120. 

Ziegenbalg,  B.,  78,  86. 


21 


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